Custody
by iCyou
Summary: Everyone has a secret worth keeping, but Freddie has a whole mess of them. When Sam's mother dies and she is forced to move in with the Benson's, Freddie's web of lies begins to unravel... his past slowly coming to light, the horror and sadness there comi
1. Crying on the floor

**Freddie:**

It was hard to watch Sam break down like that. She'd always been strong, tough, and enduring of everything and anything life had to throw at her. It was like the world was crashing down to see her cry so hysterically, because no one ever thought they'd ever see her like that unless life as we knew it was coming to an official end. I wanted to comfort her, but I had no idea how. I just stood by her, and tried to give her silent support, though she didn't show any signs of noticing it.

I had always secretly admired Sam for her shameless pride, and self confidence. It was on a level that was border-line obnoxious yet somehow still in check. It was one of the things I liked about her.

It was incredible to me, how all that she was could just shatter, in an instant. Everything that was Sam had just disappeared in a flash, and she was left raw and broken inside with tears streaming down her cheeks. It was almost as though she had never been strong in the first place.

"She can't be dead! She can't! She's not! You're all lying!" She shrieked wildly.

She was in a state of denial, she wouldn't look at Spencer, or me, or even Carly… It was like she was trapped in her own little bubble of pain, where all those trying to help her didn't exist. Where though she was surrounded by friends, she was still all alone trying to comprehend the internal agony she had to have been feeling.

I looked up to Carly for a moment, who seemed to be just as lost as I was when it came to consoling Sam. Carly met my eyes and blinked twice before giving her full attention to Sam. She sat down by her, and attempted to stroke her hair softly inan effort to calm her down. Sam just slapped her hand away, and continued sobbing. Carly tried again. This time Sam was too busy convulsing on the floor to put up a fight.

I hated seeing her like that. I loved her. Whether I pretended to be in love with Carly or not, my actual affections would never change. They were still just as strong as I saw her crying on Carly's living room floor weakened with despair and suffering.

I wondered what would happen to Sam now that her mom had been killed in the accident. Her dad was probably a bum, or a thug in prison. Most of her relatives were locked up or already dead from one too many bar-fights. Her mom had for the most part been a hermit with no friends that would be willing to house Sam, and probably none that were capable at attempting to.

Would Sam be taken to foster care? What would happen to her if she never saw her home, Seattle, again? Would it tear her up even more inside than she already had been? What would something like that do to her? What would never seeing us, her best-friends, again, do to her?

I gazed at her silently from beside Carly, and wondered what would happen to _me_ if I never saw _her_ again. I knew it would probably kill me even more than it would her.

**Spencer:**

The social worker that had dragged Sam into the apartment observed the situation unsympathetically from the corner of the room, until he cleared his throat and gestured to me to come near.

I had known this was coming. I _had _gone to law school for three days.

This was the part where they took Sam away to live with strangers, where they ripped her away from all of the ones who loved her. I knew it would devastate her to leave her friends at all, but after the recent tragedy it would throw her completely over the edge.

I nodded politely as I stared into the cold eyes of the social worker. He looked almost like a robot.

When he'd first shown up at the door, I had been hesitant to answer. Normally, when men in suit came banging on the door it meant I was in big trouble. Then I saw Sam's hysterical form by his side and threw the door wide open. Sam hadn't spoken a word, instead just running in and collapsing onto the floor sobbing like a maniac. It wasn't long before Carly had come down summoned by the commotion, and after about five minutes of trying to calm her down called Freddie. Strangely once Freddie came over she started to get a little better, though she was still shaking and wailing it was less intense than before.

While her friends tried to help her, the man introduced himself to me as Mr. Burns, a government mandated social worker. He explained to me that when he asked her where to take her, she managed to blubber out our address. He asked if I was her father, to which I replied that I was her best-friend's older brother, Spencer Shay.

That seemed to surprise him a little bit, but any emotion was quickly replaced once more by his solid poker face. When he didn't have anything else to say I went to stand by the kids, though I kept one eye focused on him constantly. There was something about him that I didn't like.

"I see you have two other children here, are they yours?"

"The boy's not. The girl is, but isn't."

"Explain."

"Our Dad's in the Air Force, so he's not around that much. Once I turned eighteen he made me her legal guardian, though if he comes back before she turns eighteen guardianship will return to him. So I am her guardian, but she is not my daughter." I said in my most lawyer-esque voice.

"I see, I see."

He began tapping on a PearPad, so fast I could barely see his fingers.

Suddenly a picture of Sam popped up on it, one of her mug shots from juvie.

He scrolled down the page, reading very fast.

"According to her files she has no living relatives that aren't currently being held under criminal charges, that we can contact. Please tell the girl and boy to move aside, so I can take her out of here and down to the office until I can find an appropriate foster family."

"Wait! What if I were to take care of her?"

"You? You're not related to her, Mr. Shay."

"But I'm closer to her than most of her relatives! She's like another little sister to me. She's here all the time. I've practically raised her since she was thirteen!" It was true.

"Well... this is your father's house right?"

"Technically, yes. He pays the rent."

"I suppose if you were to get him to agree that she could live here, then it's a possibility. You'd also have to do a lot of paperwork, and build us a good portfolio of refrences to make sure you're who you say you are and an appropriate guardian. There would definitely need to be someone else of legal age we could temporarily put her in the care of while it's all sorted out though and since she has no adult relations besides you, it's probably not going to happen."

"Um... Could you give me a second?"

"I guess we can wait a little while longer, but make it quick." He replies.

I walked away from him slowly. There was only one person I could think of, and I was almost afraid to ask her for fear she'd say no, and even more fear for Sam that she'd say yes. But she had to go somewhere, and I didn't have many options. It was a do or die situation.

I went up to Freddie and tapped him on the shoulder. He didn't seem to notice me, he's so enveloped into Sam's hysterics. After another moment, I resorted to shaking his shoulder lightly. He snapped back to reality instantaneously.

"What, Spencer?" Freddie questioned after looking at me in disoriented confusion for a few seconds, like he couldn't remember who I was. That showed just how absorbed he was in Sam. Whether he admitted it or not, he cared about her quite a bit.

"I need you to go get your mom." I said, quietly.

"Why?"

"Just do it, okay?"

He reluctantly left his friend's sides, though as he walked out the wooden door he looked back at her with a concerned expression. Less than a minute later he came back with Ms. Benson at his heels. She apparently was yet to be informed about Sam, because when she saw the kid crying on the floor a look of surprise, confusion, and shock mingled together flashed across her face.

"Oh my gosh! What happened?"

Freddie whispered a hurried explanation to Ms. Benson leaving her to gasp at the end. Ms. Benson looked at me, and "Is what he's saying true? Sam's mom is dead?"

I nod. Her mouth gaps as she stammers "But-but-!"

I stop her mid-stutter.

"Listen, Ms. Benson. I know as well as anyone here that this is horrible, but we have to help Sam. The social worker says I can take custody of her but it's going to take a while what with all the legal stuff I'll have to go through, and they need another adult of legal age to temporarily take care of her. She can't stay in Seattle, if no one else is willing. I know this is a huge favor but please could you take her on, just for now? It won't be a permanent situation. Please…" I begged.

I doubted she would say yes. She'd never liked Sam much.

"Of course I'll take her, Spencer, how could I not?" She said like I was an idiot for even having to ask.


	2. So Beautiful

**Freddie:**

Sam wasn't on the ground wailing anymore. Now it was worse.

She was up, but there was a sad, far-away, look in her eyes. I didn't miss the slight shaking as she walked.

She didn't talk, sometimes she'd open her mouth but she'd always just close it again before any words managed to get out. She was totally mute.

My mom after her talk with Spencer, had knelt beside her and explained that she was going to live with us for a while. Eventually she stopped convulsing, and crying, but had turned into this.

In a way I liked the crying grief stricken Sam better, at least then she was showing emotion. At least then I could tell she was still alive inside.

She stood up, and walked to the door. No sarcastic comments, sass, or even a "Are you kidding? I'd rather die!". There was no Sam left in her. Just a dead body left still alive.

She trailed behind with us as we walked out of the Shay's home, and she didn't give so much as a backward glance at her best friend, and Spencer. But I did.

Carly looked concerned to say the least. Her brother wore an unreadable expression. Funny, normally he couldn't keep anything to himself especially what he was feeling.

Within thirty seconds we were inside our apartment.

"Well Samantha… welcome to our happy home!" Mom said with a smile.

Sam didn't even nod in acknowledgment. I wasn't sure if she had heard it at all. She walked over to the living room and set down on the plush couch. Then she just stared at the wall, with a blank expression. I wondered what she saw in her mind. Maybe she was imagining a very different home. Her's.

I started to go over, to see if I could snap her out of it, but Mom put a hand on my shoulder and whispered quietly "Just let her work it through herself. She'll be better soon."

So I left her alone.

It was ten o'clock at night by the time I crept back into the living room. Sam hadn't moved a muscle.

I lowered myself onto the rug below the T.V.

Normally I would have set on the couch, but I didn't want to disturb her. She hadn't even come out for dinner, or to harass me.

She just set there and stared into space, trapped inside her own little world. I wondered if she knew was there. I wondered if she even knew that _she_ was there.

Carefully avoiding making any noise, I grabbed the remote off the coffee table, and turned the television on to its lowest volume. I'd been getting bored, I'd left my tech stuff at Carly's in my hurry, and the only television was in this room.

Mom was in the kitchen, drinking some hot tea. Sam was there but she was pretty much comatose, and even if she hadn't been she would be smacking me around, not curing my boredom. Sam remained oblivious to everything, as I turned it on. It was like she wasn't even there. I kept it on the channel it was on. It was the local news. There was an old, trashy, SUV toppled on its side in the middle of a road. Its windows were busted out, and there wer pieces of the car strewn about everywhere.

"This horrific scene behind me, is where only hours ago yet another wreck that could have easily been avoided took place. Yes there's been another drunk driving incident in Seattle. This afternoon at approximately three-o'clock, Tracey Marie Pucket, mother of Samantha "Sam" Pucket, crashed her own car, and-" The T.V blinked into blackness, as I clicked it off. I looked up to see if Sam was paying attention to it, but then breathed a sigh of relief. She looked completely unphased.

I raised myself off the floor, and tip-toed out of the dorr. I thought I'd go hole up in my bedroom, and read my history text-book for a few hours. At least it would be something to do, but as I walked down the hall I heard light, drifting, footsteps shadowing my own. I glanced behind me, and had to do a double take. Sam had followed me. I stared at her, but she wouldn't make the slightest eye contact, she just looked down at her own two feet. She didn't say anything. I'm not sure if she was even breathing. I'm not sure if I was either.

Slowly I turned back around, and continued down the hall. Sam still fallowed. I slipped into the kitchen, casting a fleeting look at her as I went in.

"Hi mom." I greet as I walked over. My mom was sipping her tea at the table.

"Hello, Fredward. Is Samantha doing any better?" She asked, but before I could respond she looked to the doorway. There stood Sam, leaning against the wall and gazing down at her toes.

"Why, Samantha, honey! It's great to see you up and about!" Mom exclaimed. Sam didn't respond. My mother looked down at her wrist watch, and then gasps. "Oh my, it's already ten fifteen! You kids should be getting to bed!"

That's when it hit me.

"Mom, we only have two bedrooms." I told her, quickly.

"And?" She questioned, with a puzzled expression.

"Where's Sam going to sleep?" I asked, getting more panicked by the moment.

"In your room of course, where else?" She answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Um…" I stuttered. My palms were getting sweaty. If there was one thing I knew, it was that most moms would never put a teenage girl and boy, inside a room, together, alone, and at night. It's just a bad idea in most scenarios. Not that we'd do anything. It just wasn't appropriate.

I knew I was blushing like crazy. I always did at times like these.

My Mom stared at me for a a few seconds, before she burst out laughing. "Oh Fredward, Fredward, Fredward, as if that would happen! You're you. I know I have nothing to worry about in that nature from the two of you, so just go get ready for bed!"

The funny thing about my mom was that she was always super worried about me crossing the street, eating my vegetables, and keeping my ears clean. Things, that most parents didn't really care about after their kids turned a few years old. Yet when it came to things normal parents went crazy about she wasn't that concerned with.

We did as she said though, despite its unusual nature.

It was about five hours later, at roughly three in the morning and I was still awake. Sam was on the floor, in her sleeping bag. I was on the bed, with my back to her.

I'd closed my eyes hours ago in an attempt to go to sleep, so I could finally forget about this whole big mess.

I couldn't.

Every time I managed to slip into anything close to unconsciousness, I'd see it all over again.

Sam crying on the floor. It was horrible, and then I'd jolt right back to awareness.

I was getting frustrated with myself, tossing and turning on my mattress when I heard it. A little whisper, so low I almost couldn't distinguish it's words.

"When you are gone, there is nor bloom nor leaf,

Not singing sea at night, nor silver birds,

And I can only stare, and shape my grief,

In little words.

I cannot conjure loveliness, to drown

The bitter woe that racks my cords apart.

The weary pen that sets my sorrow down

Feeds at my heart.

There is no mercy in the shifting year,

No beauty wraps me tenderly about,

I turn to little words- so you, my dear,

Can spell them out."

It was Sam, whispering oh so quietly to herself. I set up, and opened my eyes for the first time in hours, as I looked to Sam's sleeping bag. She wasn't there at all. My eyes darted frantically around the room searching for her, my heart racing more and more with each moment she remained unfound.

Then I saw her. She was sitting with her hands wrapped around her knees, her body bathed in the silver moonlight from the open window; her blond hair glistening in the gentle glow of midnight.

She didn't see me, or if she did she didn't care. She was facing the wall. I could just barely see a single tear as it trailed down her cheek, it almost looks like a little pearl bead.

_She is so beautiful. _I thought.

I turn my back again and leave her to her little words. _So, so, beautiful._

**Poem belongs completely to Dorothy Parker.**


	3. My name

**This is a really short chapter but I thought it was at a good stopping point.**

Freddie: I woke up in the morning, and Sam was finally asleep. She's not inside the sleeping bag my mom got her, she's laying with her limbs splayed out in directions I didn't even think were possible. She was tossing and turning with sweat on her brow. I sit there and look at her for a whole five minutes. I remember what she looked like last night. Crying, but still like an angel. Slowly I stand, and start to pad over to the door, I open it, and am about to leave Sam to her fitful sleep when I hear her murmuring to her self in sleep.

"When you are gone, there is nor bloom nor leaf,

Not singing sea at night, nor silver birds,

And I can only stare, and shape my grief,

In little words.

I cannot conjure loveliness, to drown

The bitter woe that racks my cords apart.

The weary pen that sets my sorrow down

Feeds at my heart.

There is no mercy in the shifting year,

No beauty wraps me tenderly about,

I turn to little words- so you, my dear,

Can spell them out."

She's repeating the words from late last night; she doesn't miss a beat, or a rhyme. Those words must be engraved in her mind so well, that she can say them in her sleep. What do they mean to her?

I start to leave again, only to be stopped as she starts to say something else. I look back at her. She turns over restlessly, but I know she's still asleep.

I can barely hear the single word she says.

"Freddie…" She whispers. She turns over again and utters my name once more

She didn't say it with hatred, or contempt, or even sarcasm like I was used to. It was just my name. _My _name. Not Spencer's, or Mom's, or even Carly's it had been my name. Why?

I slowly start to leave again, this time I don't stop, but at the end of the hall I pause and look back through the open door, and I see Sam's face.


	4. Bitter Sweet

Freddie:

I walk down the hall still thinking about Sam. I reached the door to the living room, and was surprised to see the TV was on. No one was in the room. I hadn't left it on last night either, it was on an almost mute volume. There was a pretty woman on the screen, wearing a yellow dress, and a pearl necklace. She looked a little bit younger than my mom, and had shoulder length hair, blue eyes, and a smile that looked like it was permanently plastered to her face. It was the same woman from last night when I'd watched the news. Had I accidently recorded it on TiVo? If I did who had been replaying it?

I grab the remote and click the TV off, then walk on to the kitchen.

I could smell the scent of pan-cakes on the griddle, and inhaled deeply. If there was one thing my mom knew how to do it was cook. I almost moaned it smelled so good. I was almost in a trance from the heavenly aromas, by the time I made it to the kitchen. Mom was at the stove, humming and flipping the pan-cakes over every now and then.

"Good morning, did you sleep well?" She greeted as I walked in.

"I slept like a baby." I lie.

I flash back to Sam's face. Pale and delicate in the silver glow of the moon-light, a single tear rolling down her cheeks, her blue gray eyes closed, and her blond hair swirling around her face, almost like a golden halo. She looked as if she would shatter into a million pieces at any moment. But she was beautiful.

I snap back to the present by the sound of my mom's voice.

"Fredward, breakfast is going to be ready soon. Why don't you go wake up Samantha? I bet after some delicious pancakes she'll feel better." I go through the doorway, then down the hall. I hear a soft voice echoing, bouncing off the walls. It's choked with tears, but is determined, and strong-willed, but whispery and weak too. I hear quite sobs framing the words, the voice speaks, almost as if it was a calming mantra.

"If wild my breast and sore my pride,

I bask in dreams of suicide;

If cool my heart and high my head,

I think, _How lucky are the dead!_"

The voice trembles with tears, but has the undercurrent of both relief and pure agony.

Sam.

I started to run down the hall, and the hall seemed to stretch on forever. What was going on? Was she okay? I couldn't help but ask these questions even though I could guess all the answers and most likely get them right.

I ended my mad dash about five feet from my open bed-room door. I was frozen, by what I saw.

She was on the other side of the room, I could see her face clearly but she either didn't seem to see me, even though I was in plain sight. She held an old dagger in her hands, twirling it around in her palms, looking at it with sorrow and anguish, happiness and hopefulness. It was as if her expression was the perfect representation of the phrase 'bitter-sweet'.

"If the dead are so lucky, then I guess I am the luckiest girl in the world." She whispered to herself. She holds her head high, even though tears are pouring from her stormy eyes.

She stares into the tip of the dagger, with an acceptance, accompanied by a look of fear. She clutches it as if someone would take it away from her at any second. A sad smile touches her lips as she cries, and thrusts the deadly weapon away from her body, then gently pulls it back, using the blade to cross the place where her heart was, then pulling it away again. Still smiling, her small pained smile, even as she started to plunge the knife through the air, towards her stretched out neck.

In the one instant I could see to infinity and beyond. Time took me back to a place not so long ago.

_I was sitting on the left side of the couch in Carly's house, Sam on the right. We were watching pro-wrestling. Carly and Spencer were up stairs, Spencer had asked her to help him with something. I tried to make conversation because the silence was getting awkward._

"_Hey, Sam?"_

"_What do you want?" She demands._

"_I was just wondering, you know how kids are called their parent's off-spring?" I ask as an opener to a joke._

"_Freddie, I don't like where this is going, so just shut up!" Sam orders._

"_Well if we're called offspring shouldn't they be called upspring?" The was the punch line._

_Sam bursts out laughing. I'm almost shocked that she actually thought something I'd said was funny._

"_That didn't even make any sense! It was the worst joke I ever heard!" She gasped between bouts of laughter._

That was the first time I'd ever made Sam laugh, even if it was just because my joke was horrible. And if she succeeded in her attempt then it would be the last.

I remembered all this in an single instant, Sam's dagger was still diving for her exposed flesh.

And I unfroze.

I tackled her to the floor, with a force I didn't know I had in me and she came out of her state of oblivion, with a look of surprise at me and my intervention. I snatch the dagger out of her hands, as she fumbled beneath me. I had a good hold on her, and pinned her hands behind her back.

"What the hell did you think you were doing?!!!" I scream at her. Her eyes go from surprise, to an almost dead look, as she sunk back into her haze.

"What did it look like I was doing, Freddie?" She asks in reply. I hold her firmly when she tries to rise, to make a grab for the dagger that is now in my own hands.

She still had that bitter sweet look on her face. A mix of eternal suffering, and hope.

**Poem belongs to Dorothy Parker.**


	5. Because I loved her

"What the hell were you thinking?" I scream at Sam. In the back of my mind I think it's a really good thing that my mom is a very oblivious person when she's cooking, otherwise mom would be busting in here any second, summoned by the noise we were making, and see me on top of Sam with a dagger. That would definitely look like something different then it was, but the thought just fades away, as Sam struggles to get up beneath me.

She doesn't respond, to my question, but I could have sworn I saw just a little glint of Sam's old defiance in her eyes, as she tries to make another grab for the dagger, but it only flashes for a second before disappearing into the abyss of her blue gray eyes.

Sam gives a growl of determination under her breath, before going for it again.

"Give that back!" She demands.

"Never!" I respond. She is not going to end it like this. She keeps trying to fight me for the knife, even though it's obvious she can't win. It almost reminds me of the Sam I knew two days ago. Never surrendering. Fighting till the very last breath. I glare down at her for what she would have done.

"Did you even think about us before you decided to up and kill yourself? What would happen to any of us? To Carly? To Spencer? To my mom? Hell did you even think of me? What it would have done to me _personally_ if you offed yourself? Or maybe you just didn't give a damn what happened to any of us. How much any of us would cry. Because your Sam! Always thinking of yourself first, never considering anyone else!" I rant at her, forgetting my façade in my anger. If she had died… What would be left of me?

I thought that I something flicker in her expression just for a second. But I saw so many things in that second. Anger, regret, pain, suffering, determination, insanity, passion, fire. Everything. And there was something else… something and unreadable, and hidden well. Her mask had almost come all the way off, in that one second. Except for that single unreadable emotion. I had struck something. I was about to push her one step farther, when I heard my mom's voice as she hollered from the kitchen.

"Hurry up, kids, before your pancakes get cold!"

At the sound of her voice we both pause for a moment, and tension fills the room. We had both forgotten that anyone else had been in the apartment.

"Tell her and I will kill you!" Sam hisses from under me.

Honestly I hadn't even thought about telling my mom, I was too preoccupied keeping Sam from killing herself to think about that. But why should she even care if I told my mom or not? Because it would interfere with her little suicidal plans? It just occurs to me now, that telling my mom could stop all this right here. Sam would go to the mental hospital where she couldn't hurt herself. I'm such an idiot all it would take would be a yell down the hall. Nothing more.

But still I wouldn't do that. A mental hospital wasn't what Sam needed. She needed to be here with us, among friends not with doctors poking and prodding her every moment of the day, that wouldn't help her get better at all. And despite everything she had done, no what she was still doing, what helped her came first in my mind not what was easier for me to do. Because I loved her.

I knew I wouldn't tell.

Sam finally goes limp in defeat under me, and I start to ease myself off her slowly, clutching her dagger tightly in case she makes another grab for it. When she doesn't she starts to hesitantly walk towards the door and into the hall.

It's time for breakfast. Strangely I don't feel so excited for pancakes anymore.


	6. Big Brown Eyes

**Sam:**

I could feel it. His angry glare on my back, as we walked down the hall in absolute silence. Why should he be angry anyway? I'm nothing but someone who picks on him, in his mind. I can see it every time we meet. When he looks at me… I can't see anything else except what I know he thinks. Every single time he looks I wish I could see something else. But I never can. It's always the same thing. Always.

I never catch him slyly glancing at me when he thinks I'm not looking. Like how I always look at him.

His eyes never leave Carly. He's in love with her that much is obvious.

Why not me?

Why never me?

Maybe if we were in another universe, where Carly didn't exist I would have already told him about how I feel. Maybe I would have even asked him out. Maybe he would have said yes.

But I never would do that in this time, in this universe. Because I never wanted to break what he had with Carly I still don't. Even if she just always blew him off, he still hoped for her to one day see him like I see him. And as long as he kept hoping I wouldn't try to shatter what he thought would happen someday. Because I don't want to shatter the dream he has. Like mine was.

I'm nothing to him. So why would he care if I committed suicide?

We reach the kitchen with his eyes still angrily boring into my back.

Ms. Benson is setting the table and dishing out pancakes by the pile. When she sees me she gives me a huge smile and a good morning, but I know it's all fake. The thing she's trying to keep from me is obviously displayed in her hazel eyes, as easily read as a message in neon lights. She's worried about me. Just like everyone has always worried about me. Principle Franklin, the teachers, the old lady that lives down the street, strangers the I used to scream at in the park… everyone. I knew exactly what they were thinking. They all thought I was on my way to some beyond horrible fate because of the way I act. They all thought I'd end up in prison or dead on a street corner with a bullet to the head from a gang fight or something like that. I even caught the look from Spencer and Carly every once in a while. But everyone always tried to cover it up with a big fake smile. But Ms. Benson isn't worried about my future right now, now she's just worried about _me._ Not about what's going to happen to me, just me myself. That was the reason why I didn't want Freddie to tell her about my attempt. She was too motherly for that. She cared too much to know about things like that.

Because she was too fragile. She'd shatter if she knew. People that care are the ones that will suffer, because empathy is both a virtue and a curse. If someone falls the empathic fall down right with them. Ms. Benson had the gift and torture of empathy. Of sympathy to the point where she actually could feel that persons pain. People like Freddie's mom weren't meant to deal with unhappy endings, like I was.

My whole life was made up of fake smiles and unhappy endings. People say insanity was the reason behind suicide. Their wrong. The reason is because some unlucky people live lives like mine, full of so many unhappily ever afters, and finally they get tired of suffering. People say suicide's a bad, selfish, thing. But there wrong. It's a savior. It's a way out. It's release. It's peace. It's a helpful angle. It's the force leading you into eternal serenity. Is that really so evil? Is it really that crazy? It'll only hurt for a second, then you'll let go.

And it's the end.

No more pain. No more agony or loss. Just bliss. Why do people say something so wonderful is horrible?

We both set down at the table, and slowly picked up our forks and started to pick at the golden brown pancakes. Freddie never actually said he's keep it a secret, so when he didn't say anything I let out a quiet sigh of relief. Freddie continues to glare at me from across the table, and I continue to wonder why he would give a damn if I offed myself or not. I am nothing to him.

Sitting here looking into his eyes I realize, even if life totally sucks, and around every corner there will be another unhappily ever after, that this is the most amazing angry awkward silence ever, because I'm here with him, staring into big brown eyes.


	7. Best friend

**Freddie**:

_Holy crap. What the hell? How? How could Sam of all people do something like that?_

I wonder, as I glower at Sam from across the table.

Sam was a fighter. She always had been a fighter. No matter what happened she was always up for another battle. Determined, willful, strong, defiant, sassy. All words that could have described her. How could someone like that do something like _that_? Just give up? Sam _never _gave up.

Because that's the way Sam was. It was the way she always had been.

If someone had told me last week that this was where we'd end up-

Sam's mom getting killed,

Sam moving in with us,

And her a suicide attempt

First I would have given them a funny look then I would have called the wacko shack to come pick up the person that must have been an escaped mental patient. Next I go tell Carly and Sam about it and we'd spend about ten minutes laughing about the crazy dude.

But look where we are. Sam's mom is dead, she's living with us, and about fifteen minutes ago she tried to off herself.

Sam isn't the same girl she was last week. She's not even the same girl was when she woke up yesterday. Things have suddenly changed a lot.

Sam's mom never really had affected me, Carly, Spencer, and my mom that much until now. We hardly ever saw her. How could someone that you've barely ever met make this much of an impact?

Now I can see that Sam's a lot like her mom. Selfish. Never thinking of anyone else. Liar… But there was so much more to her than there ever was to her mom. Humorous. Beautiful. Lovely. Independent. And so much more… or at least she once was. I'm not sure anymore.

I glare at the suicidal maybe insane love of my life and I can't help but wonder what she's thinking about. I look into her cobalt eyes and I could swear…

As she stared back at me I almost saw something human stirring in their depths.

**Carly:**

I'm sitting on the couch with Spencer, watching Saturday morning cartoons and eating lucky charms out of a big mixing bowl with a wooden spoon. Just like this was what we did every day. But any fool that walked into the room could feel the tension. The air was heavier. It was hard to pretend things were normal. Right now Sam should be upstairs in the studio sleeping, in her Girly Cow PJs with her hair all over her face, and her legs twisted in ways that you didn't think were possible because she decided to sleep here again, or Sam should be in the kitchen pouring root beer in some soup, or in the living room with us. Just like any other day. But me and Spencer both saw it on her face last night. Sam wouldn't be back for a while. Spencer went to law school for three days. He knows. It takes the government and the courts a long time to turn over custody. He says it could take up to two years in some cases. And Sam's… bent out of shape right now. She probably won't even want to leave the Benson's apartment for while. I'd go over and visit her but she most likely would want to be alone. I won't pester her. I won't bug her. I won't annoy her with constant visits like I want to. I'll leave her be, and hope she comes around.

_But still. This worlds an awful ugly place to live without a best friend._


	8. The calm before

**Ms. Benson**

The kids were still working on their pancakes when I put my plate in the sink and started to wash off that sticky syrup from the plate. It was a very old plate… it was white with blue flower trim on the rim… it had been in our family for years. My grandmother had given me this plate and their whole set, silverware, cups, bowls, and the other plates…. Everything. Normally I kept them in a special box beneath my bed, to be sure nothing happened to them. But today we were eating off them, because today was special. It was Sam's first meal with us… Why not try to start her stay with us as brightly as possible? Who knows… maybe eating off these will give her some good luck. There has to be a reason my family had kept these for so long… handed down from mother to daughter, to father, and to son… for god knows how many years. Maybe we kept them because somehow they brought good fortune? I washed the special plate with gentle care, like it would shatter at any second.

I remember once when I was really little… maybe three or four I was with my grandmother… my mom was never around. My dad had died right after I was born… so I lived with my grandparents for the most part. Me and my grandmother were in her bedroom… the house was old and smelled musty but I didn't mind one bit. I can remember the smooth wooden walls…. They were weird walls. They were almost like wood floors only on the sides of the room instead of the bottom. There was a little white table with a cream colored lace sheet, to small to be on a dolls bed only about the size of a really big hankie covering it's top. The floor was cluttered with cloths, and pieces of fabric… I could smell the moth balls from their positions in every cabinet and I could see how they didn't work by the moth buzzing around the lamp on the night stand. It didn't matter that the moth balls didn't do their job… I liked their scent it was pleasant and cozy. It smelled exactly like home.

My grandma was about fifty two, and still pretty. Her eyes were still that beautiful hazel that they were the day I was born. And as long as she had those it didn't matter how many wrinkles she had or that I could never in a million years count all her gray hairs. She still had the prettiest eyes in the world and to me that was all it took to make her the most amazing grandmother ever. I always loved those hazel eyes. My grandmother had them, the few times in my life that I ever saw my mother I always noticed that she had the same striking eyes, the exact same shade of hazel, and now I have the same eyes. Lovely hazel. Freddie has his father's eyes. He has that bastard's _brown _eyes. Why?

Every thing else he has is mine. It comes from me. My skin tone… My hair… even the shape of my mouth. He has it all. But he couldn't have my hazel eyes. Of course he gets that ass hole's big brown eyes. Sometimes I thought of his eyes… and I thought that fate gave him brown eyes because whatever higher power is up there thought I needed another reminder. I have plenty of souvenirs from him. They're all over my body. Hidden by long sleeves, brown hair, and turtle neck sweaters…

But underneath it all I always have reminders.

Freddie's eyes were the one thing that I would never be able to cover up.

Thinking about _him_ that… that shmuck, the reason I kept a loaded gun under my bed, the reason for the bruise on the back of my neck, the reason Freddie will always have a bad dream waiting for him… I started to scrub my grandmother's ancient plate so hard I'm surprised it didn't crack. When I looked down at my hands rubbing my plate I slowed down and came back to the memory of my grandmother and her moth balls… and hazel eyes.

I kept my eyes on the moth as it buzzed around the pale yellow lamp shade and I try to catch it with my chubby little hands but it was too fast.

"Marissa, would you come here, honey?" My grandma's voice comes from where she was kneeling by the bed, leaning over the same box that's under my bed now.

I waddled over to her and plopped down s pillow that had fallen from her bed. She smiled down at me and picked up the medium size wooden box that she was huddled over. It had flowers and birds intricately carved and painted all different colors. The box itself was made of oak and had a little brass latch on it's front. It caught the light from the lamp and shined a bright gold color.

My eyes widen when I see the box and naturally I put my hands up and tried to touch it. Under my breath I whispered.

"Pretty…"

My grandmother gently brought the box to the ground so I could a better look at it.

"This is the same box that my great great grandmother, and their grandmothers, and garandfathers, this box goes back a very very long time. Now this box is mine, and it would have been your moms. Someday it will be yours…"

When she said that I nearly leaped out of my skin in joy. Something so pretty would be mine! Just for me and no one else! My Grandma paused and smiled when she saw the way I jumped up in down on my little cushion but continued speaking

"But, it's not the box itself that's important it's what's in it that matters…"

And she opened the box and she showed me all her special things… Old photos, a tiny little hankie that her mom sewed for her when she was young with her initials stitched into one corner, her wedding ring, and the plate set. She told me that the plate was even older than the box itself. And that they would be mine too.

And now they are. The pretty little box with the gold brass latch is sitting under my bed, and now it has my special things in it. My life savings, a small pistol, a picture of my grandma right before she died holding Fredward for the first and last time wearing the same smile she had worn twenty years ago in her bedroom the day she showed me the box, and of course the plates.

I put the plate down on the counter carefully. I'd put it back in a second. I really needed a cold drink of water. I walk to the refrigerator and grab the stainless steel handle, and take a peek inside. I was a little startled to see that that our fridge… had almost nothing in it. It had some eggs a little bit of milk, a rotten orange and the water pitcher. How had I forgotten to buy food? It had to have been at least three weeks since I last went shopping! I close the refrigerator door, and turn around to face the kids. Freddie was looking across the table at Sam… in a strange way. Almost flat out angry…. And Sam just stared right back her face cold like stone. It was probably nothing…

"Um… I know this is last minute but finish up breakfast, we're running really low on food and we're going to take a trip to Waltermart!"

Niether of them had been eating when I turned around and looked at them. They were just sitting there looking at each other with mixes of emotions I wasn't sure even I could understand. Now the kids look at me,. Samntha's the first to react. She slowly puts her fork down and takes her plate to the sink. As she comes back Freddie gets up even slower and puts his plate into to the left side right on top of her plate. Then walks back. His eyes never left Samantha. It was like everything was in slowmotion for them.

I wasn't quite sure if it was just me or not, but I could feel the intensity and tension heavy in the morning air. Everything was so quite... too quiet. Everyone was peaceful at least on the outside. Too peaceful. This was the calm before the storm. I know the calm like the back of my bruised neck. Something was brewing inbetween the two of them. And when whatever it was came out it wouldn't just be a storm... it would be a hurricane. I feel it. I know it.


	9. Heartbeat

**Forgive me if Freddie's a bit too dark here. I have to have certain essence, to write**

**from each different character's perspective. This doesn't feel quite like Freddie to**

**me. This chapter was originally mainly in Sam's point of view but for some reason **

**That didn't feel right, so I completely rewrote the chapter. The storylines **

**the same, just with different thoughts, emotions, and ideas, if that makes any sense. **

**I guess I was still in Sam-mode when I wrote it and that's why the first point of view**

**Is a bit darker than it should have been. I might have re-wrote it again if**

**1: I hadn't already re-wrote it**

**2: I'm already late getting this on fan-fiction.**

**3: I think I like it even though it doesn't feel right.**

**4: I'm lazy, and I'm one of those people that despises things that are perfect.**

**Ps. Sorry it's late.**

**~ICU**

**Freddie**

People frantically pushed their carts, down every isle like it was any other busy morning

at the Waltermart. Like no one tried to off themselves this morning.

The shoppers glanced quickly up at us, then looked down at their ten mile long grocery lists, and hurried to snatch what they needed off the shelves before anyone else did, like we were any normal family on a trip to Waltermart.

They looked at Sam and saw a blond haired girl, without a care in the world, that hadn't just half an hour ago been clutching a dagger and about to stab herself.

They looked at me and saw a boy like any other; the certainty had never saved a person's life against that person's will.

They looked at my mom and saw exactly what she was. An oblivious, over-protective, happy, single mother.

It's because they don't care enough to ask us who we really are. We're not even real people to them. All they know is the painted faces they see.

They see the mask; Sam wears to hide her new-found insanity and big wet tears.

They see my fake smile to cover up my barely contained rage at her.

And then they look at my mom and see exactly what she is, because she is one of the few people alive that has nothing to hide.

I watch the crowd swirl around us and tried to see the personalities behind their painted faces. I don't really care about them though. Like they don't care about me or any other stranger they pass in Waltermart.

I only try to see them because I don't want to see her for who she is now.

I want more than anything to look at her and see someone I don't know. I wish I could not know about her. I wish she wasn't a suicidal maniac.

I hate her.

Right now there's no one in the universe I hate more than the filthy, no good, psychopathic, selfish, bitch.

I love her.

I'll never look at her the same.

**Ms. Benson**

I strolled down the aisles pushing the half full metal cart. Freddie and Sam trailed me, Freddie much closer than Sam. Freddie kept his eyes ahead focused on my back. Sam looked down at her feet her expression unreadable beneath her long blond hair. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know something was wrong. Very wrong.

_Maybe they had an argument last night?_ I thought.

It was a likely theory. Emotions were bound to be running high. I got the feeling that whatever was stirring between them hadn't come close to peaking yet. It was still the calm before the hurricane for them. I'd been in the hurricane. I'd been in the hurricane a hundred times. It's painful. So painful…

I cringe silently, and push away the flash back that tried so hard to push through the locked door in the back of my mind full of the memories I've vowed to forget.

Perhaps they needed some time apart from each other.

"Samantha, would you mind going to get some tomato's from the vegetable department?"

I quickly came up with things for them to get, that would keep them far away from each other for a little while. Samantha started to walk away slowly, but as she got farther her pace sped up until she was moving at a rapid pace. I watched her until her body faded into the crowd.

Freddie didn't look back at her.

"Fredward, please go get some printer ink. We're nearly out."

**Freddie**

NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sam.

My mom had told her to go get tomatoes, but Sam… isn't going to come back with tomatoes! She isn't going to come back at all! I know she isn't!

She was alone for three minutes this morning, and she almost died.

This gave her time to finish what she started. Looking around…. Their was something you could kill yourself with every two feet.

She had the opportunity.

She had the intentions.

She had the insanity.

I had to save her!

I needed a plan.

I did the only thing I could do to get out of my mom's sight.

I tried to keep my voice from shaking.

"Sure, I'll get some printer ink."

And I walked away slowly as Sam had done. My pace was unhurried, but my heart-beat was frantic urging me to break into a mad dash. I gave a quick look behind me to be sure that I had disappeared into the crowd, then I took my hearts advice. I sprinted as fast as I could, hollering apologies over my shoulder to all the people I bumped into.

My heart-beat went wild.

_I have to save her…_

_I will save her…_

_From herself._

Somehow I found the strength to run a little faster.

My heartbeat was thumping so fast, it was almost like one long contiguous beat.

Then I saw a blond haired fallen angle from across the meat and dairy section.

And my heartbeat stopped.

I stopped running,

And I stopped to watch her.

**Sam**

I strolled across Walter mart. What would be the point of going any faster? The girl's bathroom isn't faraway now. I would finish what I started there. But for now I watched the wonderful world of Walter mart swirl around me for the last time.

It isn't a sad feeling. Looking at normal everyday things and thinking _'this is the last time I will see this'_ doesn't really make me feel all that much sadness. I only feel a weird acceptance as I slowly walk and look at all the worthless earthly things on the shelves I pass.

I let my mind drift to the dark warm place in the recesses of my mind. It was quiet there. All the white noise of Walter mart fades away into oblivion. I like to think that this is what death will be like. Only forever.


	10. Bertha

**Sam**

The thing about daydreaming is once your in that place… it's impossible to come back, it's like sinking into a pit full of thick black tar. My day dream place was exactly where I wanted to be. In death.

In death there isn't any pain. Their isn't any fear, or panic. All there is, is the soft, warm black. There is no more suffering. No sorrow. No manipulating illusions. Just sweet fantasizes and delusions, in death. And all you have to trade, for this wonderful world of peace is one thing, a thing that means nothing to someone like me. Life.

Death isn't something for everyone. Some people have reasons to stay alive. People they love. Places their attached to. Memories they can't bear to lose.

I have none of these. I have nothing precious enough to keep me here.

I have nothing left of value that hasn't been taken from me.

This is a blessing and a torture, because that means I have absolutely nothing left to lose.

_Except him…_

A small voice in the back of my mind whispered

_Shut the hell up!_

I yelled at the voice.

Freddie hated me. He hates me now more than he ever did before. I can see the blind fury in his eyes when he looks at me.

There's only two questions I have left, that are still go unanswered.

Why the hell would he be upset if I killed myself?

I thought out of all the people in this world, he would be the one that would be the happiest if I died.

He wants me to die.

He hates me that much.

And why shouldn't he?

To him I'm an obnoxious, selfish, evil, and wicked, bitch. I'm mean to him all the time. I call him names "Nub." "Bastard." "Chicken-legs" "Mama's boy" anything that might get a reaction out of him

I do this because in my heart of hearts, I know its better this way.

Even if I love him, even if I'd go to the ends of the universe for him… He and I… will never be like that.

He doesn't love me the way I love him. He wishes I would burn in hell.

And I'll do that for him.

I'll try to die for him.

He loves Carly. So I keep my distance. I try and I try to put as much distance between us as possible. Whenever I somehow find myself getting close to him… getting attached to him, I force myself to wreck whatever kind of trust we'd built.

Freddie and Carly are meant to be. Or at least Freddie thinks they are. And I won't ruin hopes. Because in the end I want what he wants. I want him and Carly to date, get engaged, married… He dreams of that. I dream of him smiling, and happy, with Carly.

I was not going to ever get close to him, because if I did it would just get in the way of his dreams of Carly.

My death wasn't only for me it was kind of a gift for him in a sick way too.

He would never have to know of my love. I would never be able to interfere in the slightest with his plans, his future.

I was always saw myself as a third wheel when it came to Carly and Freddie. Without me maybe Freddie's dream would come true, and he would be happy like in my heart of hearts I want him to be. Even without me there to see his smile.

With me gone their relationship might be able to finally flourish into some kind of love. That could never happen with me still in the picture. Still in their way. With me gone he could stop suffering, along with me. And I can be with my mom. Wherever she is.

I could see the girl's bathroom. It was less than three yards away now. It was amazing. I always thought my last thoughts would have been something long and dramatic. Something extraordinary. But really they were just normal thoughts. Nothing special. I took my final steps, before I entered the place of my soon to be suicide.

There would be no Freddie this time.

_Sweet, dear, Freddie…_

_I love you._

I almost wished I could tell him that, in this eleventh hour. But that would just set his life back. It's best that he remembers the hatred… not the love. It will be easier to forget me that way.

I looked down at my feet, clad in my customary sneakers and watched as teardrops fell from my face for the last time. The strange thing was the tears weren't because I was dying. They weren't for me at all. They were for him.

And the love that we never had.

_Just one more unhappily ever after… no big deal. I won't suffer for long, this time. Then the sweet angles of suicide will put me out of my misery. _

But something happened that wasn't in my plans. I bumped into a fat lady as she strolled down the dark tiled hallway that led to the bathroom. I looked up at her ugly face and realized that some distant part of me recognized her.

She glanced down at me with distain.

"Samantha. I can't say it's a pleasure to see you, I can see by your unwashed hair that you haven't changed at all since I last so you, you're still just as ragged as ever." The fat lady said. She muttered under her breath:

"Filthy gutter child, just like your mother…"

"And a fine hello to you too Berhta."


	11. Snapped

Bertha Pucket.

Just when I begin to think it's all going to work out this time, for me. Just when I think maybe for once I could have a happily ever after, even if it was a sick and demented one, _she_ had to happen.

Bertha Pucket.

I could almost taste death. It was just barely out of my reach… Bliss. I could have been happy… Freddie could have been so happy to see me gone… but no. Nothing ever happens in my life that could give even a little bit of joy to me or anyone else. This could have been it. I could have ended my own suffering. I could have just died, and soon enough everyone would move on forget me and in a year or two maybe even sooner all the people I know would end up with the fairytale endings they were destined to have, that I never came even close too. In exchange for just one little gruesome ending, for one pathetic, worthless, bitch with nothing left to live for. That would have been more than a fair trade.

All I've ever done with my life is torment and burden others.

If I died Carly, Spencer, Ms. Benson, The teachers… Anyone whose life I've ever come in contact with could just stop worrying about me because I'm pushing up daises, and there would be nothing they or anyone else could do to change that. I'd be safe and sound in my coffin, they would know that, and soon they'd leave me in the past, along with their fears for me.

I guess my mom already has left her burdens with me behind.

When I see her again, she won't have to take care of me anymore, and she can do anything she wants with me holding her down.

All the kids I tortured, and tormented for years, Gibby, Ruben, Jeremy, Charlie, Walter, George… Freddie. The list goes on and on. They won't have anyone holding them down either with put-downs, swear words and violence… they could become whatever they wanted too.

Freddie could be whatever he wanted to be.

Every single person could have had a happily ever after. Even me, finally. Even if it ends in a not so Cinderella, Prince Charming, type of way. I've had enough misfortune to last ten lifetimes, and hardly any luck in this world. If I had been able to fallow the grim reaper, into the world beyond the girls bathroom in Waltermart, then maybe wherever I ended up would give me a better go of it, maybe some more good things… happy memories… It could have, would have, and should have been a cheerful ending to a not so cheerful story.

The narrator could have closed the book with a thud, and finished with a "And they all lived happily ever after."

But no.

Of course not.

Because I am me. Sam. And nothing good can ever happen to me not even once.

Why did _she_ have to be in this area? In this store? At this time? In this _life_?

Bertha Pucket.

I never liked her. In fact I've always despised the bitch.

My mother's step sister. She hated me. She hated my mom. She hated everyone. Except herself. She loved herself. She saw fault everywhere she looked, except in the mirror.

For someone who's step sister, who she had been raised alongside practically since birth, she looked really happy.

The twisted thing about it was that she was.

"And a fine hello to you too Bertha."

I would try to be polite and hope to the depths of my eternally damned soul, that she had something more interesting to do than insult me. I didn't have time to get angry. Right now I still had a chance at finishing it, before anyone came looking for me.

But as I greeted her I couldn't keep the saracasm out of my voice.

"Ah, Ah, Ah. Is that anyone to talk to your Auntie? I guess I can't blame you though. Being raised by filth like your mother, how could I excpect you to know any better?" She replied in that annoyingly high pitched sing song, voice of hers.

If it were any other time I would have punched her so hard that have a bruise for months.

But at this time, I had no time to waste with beating Bertha senseless.

I settled for clenching my fists at my sides.

I smiled a tight, fake smile up at the fat, arrogant, bitch, and tried desperately not to kick her ass.

"You must be feeling horrible right now. I watched the News last night. Poor Tracey Marie… but I can't say I'm surprised. Drunk driving, of course. She died as she lived. A drunken whore, who wasn't even smart enough to get a designated driver… I don't suppose she ever told you about your father? She was sixteen and already working the clubs. About a month after she started working there, she came home with an STD. Shocker. But our parents acted as if they had no idea how she got it, like she was still the sweet innocent little Tracey Marie, that she was when she was seven. They always turned a blind eye to everything she did… the drugs, the sex, the stealing, the drinking… I was the only one who never ignored it. She would have died a lot sooner if it wasn't for me I'm telling you… I always tried to steer her in the right direction. But no, she steered herself in that damn SUV of the side of the road, and died. But anyway… a month after that she came home one night crying and screaming and crying about how she got knocked up. That's when our parents stopped being so lenient with her. She wanted an abortion. As punishment our parents wouldn't sign the paperwork that would permit the doctors to give her one, so she'd be forced to have _you_. She never wanted you, and I can guess why. She knew you'd end up just like her. She didn't live to see it, but I have. You're an exact duplicate of her personality… So tell me Samantha how long have you been a whore? Where do you get your drug money? God knows your mother didn't have any cash for you to inherit. She was a drunken bum, with nothing to contribute to society. She didn't even know her baby-daddy's name. I can't say I'm sorry to see her dead. People like her have no right to live. With her gone it's one less mouth for the world to feed."

I couldn't take it.

"If you ever need to borrow money don't come crawling to me, druggie. Just like your mother I'm telling you… And you'll end up dead on the street, your body floating in some sewer. Just as your mother would have if it weren't for cars."

And she started to walk away without another word. Her arrogance, wickedness, and cruelty radiating from her, with every step.

The doorway to the bathroom was open. I could have gone right in and have been done with it. That would have been the smart thing to do.

But I've been a very smart person when it comes to emotions have I?

And just like that I snapped. I turned away from the bathroom, ran up to the bitch by her matted brown hair, and pulled as I could. She squeled in pain. I smiled a demented little smile and attacked. I punched her everywhere. I kneed her in the stomach and laughed.

No one ever talks to me, or about my mother that way with out paying the price. No one ever has. Even when I was little if someone dared to insult me I would kick ass, no questions asked.

Since I was little, I'd gained a lot of control, but Bertha pushed me over the edge the minute she opened her mouth.

People were staring. I didn't care.

Employees were coming. I didn't care.

But then one thing happened that I did care about.

I saw a familiar face dashing out from the crowd. And I cared.

He darted up to me faster than a speeding bullet, dragged me off Bertha and straight of Waltermart with a million faces gawking after us.

He took me all the was back to Ms. Benson's Minivan. He pushed me against it's metal exterior and asked me a question full of rage, confusion, and about a thousand other things.

"What the hell were you doing?!?!"

Freddie.


	12. Potential

**Freddie:**

I knew what she was planning the minute she started walking to the bathrooms. The bathrooms were the obvious choice if you were going to off yourself. There were never more than one or two people in there, and all she would have had to do was wait them out. The bathroom is a place of privacy, and secrecy. There are a million things you could use to die in a public bathroom, from the metal pipes, to the toilet cleaner… It wouldn't be that hard to finish it right there, if you the intentions. And the insanity.

Sam had both. I started to inch my way forward, I was only about a yard away from her but she either didn't see me or didn't care.

I was just about to intervene when fate pushed a gorilla in a yellow dress between Sam and the would be crime scene.

I thought that the ugly lady would move out of the way in a few seconds, like people always do when they bump into someone and that I would still need to do what I followed her to do. To save her from herself for the second time today.

Last time I didn't know what to think I was just angry at Sam. And confused. And scared. And worried.

This attempt didn't have the same impact as the first. Yes I was still angry. Yes I was still scared. Yes I was still worried. But I wasn't confused.

I had seen this one coming. I knew. The last time it was a shock. This one was anticipated. And that would make it easier to keep her alive.

Why would she do something like this knowing what it would do to me? If she died… I think I would too. She'd make me as twisted and demented as she was.

Why would she do this when she knows I love her more than anything?

Oh yea. Sam doesn't know.

And hopefully she never would.

Part of me has always wanted to tell her the whole truth. But she too much potential to be wasted on love. Unlike me. She has a lot to give to the world; all I have is my tech stuff, an overprotective mother, and the AV club. Sam was going places. She had an 'it' factor. The audience loved her. Even people that hate her loved her.

I on the other hand was temporary. Just a nobody, anonymous, behind a camera. I didn't really matter.

The first time I realized this was when Icarly got the opportunity of a life time. When we got our own TV show. Sam and Carly were both very involved. On film. In front of an audience… but the minute we were in Hollywood I was kicked to the curb for tech people who had money, experience, and better equipment. I became basically an unpaid intern.

This made me realize something that I suppose I always knew… I was easily replaceable. Entirely temporary. They could never get read of Carly, or Sam, they were the stars. I was just their no-name X-tech producer. Insignificant.

Eventually because the guy who ran the entire thing was a moron they did get read of Sam. And the entire show collapsed, just shows how big of a part of thing she is. She isn't easily forgotten, unlike me.

She had potential. No doubt in my mind. She had potential.

And she was trying to through away that potential.

I was yanked out of my thoughts by the sound of her voice. Sarcastic and full of contempt like I was used to hearing it.

"And a fine hello to you too Bertha."

I almost smiled. She almost sounded like the Sam I used to know. Almost.

I could almost make out what the gorilla in the yellow dress said. Almost.

I could just barely catch a few fleeting words "Horrible… Tracey Marie…Drunken Whore… Parents… Blind eye… Stealing… Died... way she lived… Not sorry… Whore… Baby Daddy… One less mouth for… Never wanted you… Druggie…" When the gorilla's lips stopped moving Sam was almost shaking in rage.

The ugly lady started to walk away living the door to the bathroom ajar. This was it. I stepped forward. Ready to… I wasn't quite sure what I was ready to do… What would I do? Two words popped into my mind _Save Her. _My mind was right. I had no idea how I would do it but I would save her no matter what. Sam stared down the hall into the bathroom. And I almost tried to block her path. Almost.

Just when I was about to save her, she saved herself. She turned away from the bathroom, with a sick, insane smile on her face, ran up to the gorilla and pulled her hair so hard that about 30% of it fell out. The lady started to scream, and heads turned to gawk at the violent scene. Sam showed no mercy, beating her with everything she had. I'd been on the receiving end of her attacks many times… but they'd never been near as nasty. I always thought Sam gave it her all when she tried to kill me. This was about a hundred times worse than was normal. Blood splattered the white brick walls. It was almost silent. Almost.

Except for two blood curdling screams one of pain, and one of war. Sam was quaking in anger. I knew she wouldn't stop this time. Not until someone made her stop. No employee could handle this. Several came forward but they all backed off, they had absolutely no idea how to deal with this. You would almost think Sam was a lion, or a tiger the way she was tearing into her prey. Almost.

No one else had any idea how to deal with this the way I did. I knew how Sam fought. Fast and furious. I knew her strategies. I could stop her. I darted out of the crowd of spectators before I could change my mind and pulled Sam off her victim. She looked up at me, and though her eyes were the same grey blue as always, they were lit up with a red burning light like her pupils were tiny bonfires fueled by rage and hatred. But she didn't touch me when I dragged her out of the store, she just glared back at the lady with her tiny bonfires and she sweared louder and longer than I had ever heard anyone swear. I towed her all the way through the parking lot and she didn't stop swearing until I pinned her down to my mom's minivan and demanded to know, the answer to one the simplest question on earth that had been asked to many different people on many different occasions. I almost wished she wouldn't answer it, because I wasn't quite sure that I wanted to know what had really happened in Waltermart, or why it occurred in the first place. Almost.

"What the hell were you doing?" I almost yelled at her. Almost.

She looked up at me, her fires turned only to embers...

"I was hauling ass until you showed up." She replies coldly.

I glare down at her. In that instant my emotions split in two. I hated her so much I could kill her myself, but the reason I hated her, was because I loved her more than anything, and she was trying to end that. If she died my heart would never beat again. Not for Carly. Not for Valarie. Not for Melinda. Not for Rebecca, Leah, Shirley, Ann… names smear in my mind of all the girls I've ever met, and there's always only been one name that I could always, always, remember Sam. The moment I realized that I was a thirteen year old boy, and that moment was the one that I realized I loved her. And through all this time… I've maintained that love. She's still the only name that means a thing, to me. That's how I know that I do love her. This isn't just a fleeting crush. She's always been there in my heart, like no one else has.

I love her.

I hate her.

There has to be something dysfunctional about this.

I make a note in the back of my mind, that when this is all over if it ever is, to go see a therapist.

But right now it's not over, so I concentrate on the matter at hand.

I reply to Sam, trying to mimic her cold and uncaring voice.

"Who was that?" I tried to stay calm and keep my voice neutral.

"That bitch was my Step-Aunt Bertha Pucket." She answered. She practically spit when she said the gorilla's name

For a second I was thrown off. I'm sure surprise was displayed plainly on my face. How could someone so beautiful and full of potential be related to _that_?

"You two are related? You look nothing alike!"

"I said step. And I'll take that as a compliment."

This was our first actual conversation since her Mom's death. I didn't count the few swift and angry words exchanged when she tried to die as a conversation. I almost let myself believe that it was a sign that she was going to get better in a few days. Almost.

Even a psychopath can carry on a conversation. It didn't mean anything.

Things like suicidal crazes don't go away over night. I knew that.

But just for a second I almost let myself hope. Almost.

Then it was back to our conversation.

"You could be arrested, and charged with assault and battery. If it's your Step-Aunt, these she knows your full name, your address, your phone number, maybe even your birth information. It wouldn't be all that hard to find you and get you convicted." I was amazed at how calm she was as I said all the stuff she must already know.

"Trust me, Bertha won't do a thing. She severed all ties to our family almost twenty years ago. She wouldn't want to spoil her good reputation, in her mind my mom, me, and anyone in our family is filth. She won't do anything or say anything that shows any relation to our family at all. She won't do anything that may cause people to link her with the us, and that includes revealing information. She'll probably just say some maniac attacked for no specific reason, that will give them no leads to go on so the investigation would go nowhere and I will hopefully never see her again, no harm done. This is assuming that she even calls the cops which she won't." Sam explained calmly.

"That's hard to believe. No person alive is that concerned with their reputation." I said.

"Bertha is barely a person at all." She replied seriously.

And for that I had no argument.

_Well it's not like we can go back in the store now, there were like a hundred witnesses and they would be bound to notice us._

So I thought for a second and came up with the best idea I could

"Get in the car." I ordered meekly. I wasn't expecting her to listen to me. And she didn't.

"What? Why?"

I looked behind me. People were coming out of the store, a lot of people. Anyone could guess that they weren't all just coming out because they forgot something in their car either.

They were looking for us. We were running out of time for explanation.

"Just do it!"

"Why?"

"Trust me. Please just get in the car…" I practically begged.

And to my surprise she turned to face the car opened the door and got in.

For once in her life she listened to someone besides herself.

For a second I was too shocked to follow my own plan. But soon enough I recovered and jumped in after her. I pressed the button that locked the doors and explained my idea.

"You're insane." She looked at me firmly.

"I'm insane? I'm not the one who's a suicidal maniac!" I screamed letting my emotions flood into my voice. All I was trying to do was save her a trip to juvie, and she has the nerve to say I'm INSANE!

It wasn't even a half bad plan if I did say so myself.

"It's not going to work. Your Mom's smart she'll know something's up. Think about it. Surely she'll hear people talking about us and she'll put two and two together!" She argued.

"Well there's no chance at all if we don't even try!"

"Fine." Sam stated as if she didn't care anymore.

"Wh-what?" No. There was absolutely no way she'd give in twice in a row, it wasn't the way she worked. But I suppose I don't know her as well as I thought I did. It seemed that how little I really knew about Sam Pucket, kept getting more and more prominent with each thing she did.

Sam was always like the moon in my eyes, pale, beautiful, and completely and totally unattainable. She always lit up the darkest times in my life. But I had never considered this similarity. The moon has a dark side. Apparently so did she. A vicious, insane, heartbreaking, miserable, and perhaps eternally damned side of her that I had never been able to see until now.

That makes me wonder, has she always had a dark side, and I just didn't notice, or did it just suddenly spring into existence?

"I said fine, are you deaf?"

Oh yea. I almost forgot that she was there beside me for a second.

She continued with waiting for a reply.

She stuck two fingers down her throat and made herself puke all of the leather interior of the minivan.

When she was done she looked at me and said "Happy now?"

"Very." I pulled out my cell phone, but before I even started to dialing I felt the urge to vomit myself at the stench the car now had.

_Ugh…_

But I plugged my nose and dealt with it. It was all going according to plan.

I dialed my mom's cell phone number and waited for her to pick up.

One ring.

Two ring.

Three ring.

Four Ring.

Five ring.

Six ring.

"Hello?" Mom's voice said.

"Hey mom. It's Freddie, I found Sam by the water fountains, and she wasn't feeling too good. So we both went back to the car so she could lay down but she puked all over the back seat…"

"Oh no! I'm in checkout right now; I'll be there in a second."

"See you then."

I closed the phone and put it back in my pocket.

"It worked."

It had worked, I had officially saved her from being identified as the assailant, by any of the witnesses who came looking, Sam wouldn't be going to jail anytime soon.

Sam looked at me with the dead look she wore last night. But her words suggested something different than her expression. Hesitantly she whispered/

"Good job, Fredward."

Then she turned her back to me and we didn't speak again until mom finished loading everything in the trunk. Grabbed a bottle of oxy clean, and some paper towels from the purse that she keeps practically everything in, and started to mop up the evidence.

I was amazed when I could sniff the air without gagging and even more amazed when it didn't leave a stain.

Mom got into the driver's seat and we pulled away just a police cruiser pulled into the parking lot.

"How are you feeling, Samantha?" She asked.

"Oh… ugh… great… It was just a little stomach virus… I'm fine now."

"Good!" She smiled into the rear-view mirror.

"You should have heard the crazy things I heard at the checkout line… Apparently a teenage assaulted a lady named Bertha Hunt. According to the employees she was so fast when she attacked that no one saw more that a flur of blond hair. A boy in the crowd pulled her off the sweet old lady, and dragged her out to the parking lot. They still haven't been found. You kids must have gotten out just before it happened. It is really scary isn't it? From what I heard the violence occurred randomly… In this day and age you can't even go to the super market without fear… kind of sad. But anyway the lady was left with a broken wrist, and a lot of muscle bruising. The custodian was still cleaning up blood when I checked out… You kids were really lucky. If you had stayed around there another minute or two you could have been the victim."

Sam smiled a sick smile when mom listed her Step-Aunts injuries. How demented.

But still. Even after that she was still the moon to me. What did it matter if she was sadistic? She still had potential. Somewhere inside her soul she still had that '"it" factor. Even if it was buried deep.

I had saved her from being identified as the assailant, by any of the witnesses who came looking.


	13. That Boy

_Journal, March 17__th__ 1984_

_Sometimes I think Marissa tries to set me off… she knows how I feel about her friend… what's his face. Coda or something. Whatever, it's not like I give a shit. Back to the point. Marissa always hangs around that boy. They're always talking on the phone, and walking in the halls._

_Who does Coda- no wait I think I just remembered. Cody. Yea that's his name- think he is? Her boyfriend? That would be me. _

_They were together again today. Lately Marissa has been hanging out with him more than usual. I think the bitch is trying to avoid me!_

_I was walking through the halls- yes I was late to algebra again, but that's beside the point. And guess who I saw? Yes. __**Them.**_

_There were a few other people there. Friends of Marissa's. Each and every one, leaning against the lockers, laughing their asses off about something. That boy was just smiling coyly. I could see it in his eyes. He was a player no doubt about it!_

_I had told Marissa a million times to stay away from Cody. But she wouldn't listen. She always insisted that they were "Just friends." But I knew better. She was a cheating and whore and all this did was prove that farther!_

_I stopped in front of them first I glared at that man who was trying to get in my girl friends pants. Then I glared at the bitch. I had given her a fair warning. I had told her to stay away from Cody. She deserved what she got._

_The laughter stopped, when I grabbed Marissa by the hand and yanked her away. She didn't try to resist. She had long ago learned the resisting only made it worse. I started to drag her down the hallway when that boy hollered from across the hallway._

"_Wait, Ian! Don't do this. Please don't do this. It's not her fault… I'm the one who was talking to her, not the other way around… Please just don't hurt Marissa…"_

_The audacity of that boy! Trying to tell me what I should and shouldn't do to my bitch. The nerve. But he did have a point._

_I dropped Marissa on the floor, and she deflated like a rag doll._

"_You know, you're right. It's not only her fault. It is yours as well. It's only right that you get what you should get what's coming to you too. I walked slowly to him, and slapped him across the face. Hard. He just stared at me for a moment, wide eyed. Stunned. Good._

_I turned to the other people in the small group and said, enunciating every syllable "Does, anyone else want to play hero?"_

_One by one the slowly shook their heads from left to right._

"_Excellent."_

_Then I stroll leisurely back to Marissa. Pulled her back up and walked away, without a second thought._

_I took her straight out of the high school and into the parking lot. I almost laugh at how poor our school's security was._

_And I did what had to be done. This time I beat her for over an hour. A lot longer than was normal. Reopening old wounds and making new ones. Even though she's a lying little slut I do have to hand it to her. She didn't cry easily. Through the entire thing she barely made a sound. When I was done, I looked down at her and I said coldly._

"_Are you sorry?"_

_No reply._

"_**I said are your sorry?"**_

_I grabbed hold of her jaw and forced her to look up at me._

_Still no reply._

_She was asking for it._

_I kicked her in the shin as hard as I could._

_She gave a little moan of pain._

"_**Are you sorry or do we have to go this entire process again?"**_

"_I-I'm sorry, I-Ian." She stammered._

"_Are you going to hang around Cody anymore?"_

"_No."_

_And that was the end of that. I kissed her on the cheek, and told her that I loved her more than anything, like I always did after one of our little scraps. I told her to go and rest in my car, so she would feel better. She did as I said, and I went back to class. I had Phys ED with that Cody boy and all the way through it he glared at me. _

_It's not like I care what he thinks. As far as I'm concerned he can shove his opinions up his ass._

_That was the only real event that happened today I guess. I drove Marissa home, just as I always do, then I went to my place and watched TV till about 7:00. I called my girlfriend to check up on her, and she was doing fine, it looked like none of the damage would be permanent and she was back to her happy go lucky Marisa-Bensony self._

_Sincerely,_

_Ian Thompson_


	14. Impossible

**Dear readers,**

**I have several things I want to address in this chapter. For starters, I received a few reviews expressing confusion about the last chapter, or claiming that it was random. But you know what they say… a good writer is like a good magician; we never reveal our secrets… or in a writer's case at least not until just the right moment, though I will break the rules in this case and partially explain it. Marissa is Freddie's mom (if that wasn't obvious?) and by the end of**_** Custody**_** you will come to find will be just as relevant to the plot as Sam and Freddie. This story is still going to center around our favorite web-star and tech producer but you can expect that every so often you might log on and see a Marissa and Ian chapter.**

**And now that the serious crap is out of the way…**

**I would also like to acknowledge… YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME!!!!!!!!! I now have over A hundred reviews. It's always been my goal to reach the hundreds for every story I've ever written, but this is the first one to ever achieve it. Since Custody is currently only 15,040 words, I like to think of 101 reviews as very impressive. My point is I have gathered quite a following over the past few months and I appreciate that. Whether you're a new reader, or you've been with me since the beginning thanks to you:**

**XxiLove AmandaxX**

**Maximumfan**

**Aaamber**

**Foxtail-Padfoot**

**Invader Johnny**

**Panda Hallows**

**Manitilde**

**Bloody Aphrodite**

**Annabanana159**

**Jaydee**

**FlyingFerret**

**Msknowitall**

**Bridgette Barymo **

**Etnies-element-khai**

**Illypad456**

**Iheartseddie4eva**

**MaybeSeddie**

**CaseyBug14**

**I luv Jasper-Hale yes**

**Maritahp**

**Lil Miss Vampire**

**DANNYGIRL3**

**Seddiegirl1212**

**LinkOmega**

**XxThe Best Damn ThingxX**

**Psycho Chick 666**

**Meblucy**

**Kpfan72491**

**Iicarlyy-Ness**

**Jodiemae**

**Discostick0halala**

**Silver-Creasnt-MOON1995**

**Liza**

**Lanter**

**xoxDark Winged Loverxox**

**Isabella**

**Josh14513**

**thePelican**

**H20Fan34**

**Sorry if I accidently forgot to include you or if I misspelled anything.**

**Someday this story is going to make it to 100,000 words, this I swear.**

**So…Cheers to 15,000 words, 101 reviews, 11,144 hits, and most importantly of course to Sam and Freddie.**

**~ICU**

**Freddie:**

The short trip home was made in silence. I could tell my mom was confused about what was causing the dark, too quiet atmosphere, from the way she kept peeking at us through her review mirror, obviously knowing that something was up, but not wanting to expose her concerns.

I couldn't stop thinking about what happened in waltermart, at home this morning, last night... just today in general. Replaying it over and over again in my head. Trying to make sense of it all… Life had suddenly changed the instant Sam's mom had died. It was kind of odd how she had always meant more to me than anyone else, yet somehow now that she was warped beyond belief, and entirely and completely insane it almost seems like I love her even more… I feel like my entire existence is totally devoted to keeping her alive.

People say the young have no clue what love really is… I'm only 16… but if what I feel isn't love than what is? There isn't a doubt in my mind. I'm absolutely in love with Sam.

I despise her so much though, for trying to take her-self away from me.

If she were a classic suicide case than perhaps the reason she was attempting to end it all was because she thinks no one cares about her.

If I thought that were her problem I might have blurted out then and there that I cared, and just how much I cared.

Too bad Sam was nowhere close to a classic suicide case.

With someone like Sam… telling them that you are pretty much obsessed with them… wouldn't really help. If anything it would push them even nearer to the edge…

I had always held back my true feelings because I didn't want to wreck her potential. Now I was holding back because what good was the potential I'd strived so hard to protect if she was dead?

My dirty little secret, was more toxic than it had ever been.

I glance up at her, as she looks out the car windows. Glances turned to stares, as I realized… our situation. There was no chance for us. Ever. I could never tell her. Love could be the death of her now… and even if she got over this… this hysteria… she'd still have that potential that always pushed me away from her before.

If we were in a different time a different world, perhaps someday… we would have been like I want us to be. We weren't meant to be.

I will never be able to tell her. Not even give her a hint.

I had to find away to forget about her, so she could live the life she was meant to live.

Oh my god what am I saying? I couldn't forget her if I tried. I will always love her, never anyone else. But I would have to keep that little detail to myself.

I had to face facts, we would never be, we never had a chance. We are impossible.

I look at her and sigh for what could have been…

I would always protect her though. Always. Even if she would never be in love with me I loved her and that was all that could ever matter.

We pull into the driveway, and I feel the hard truth of my cold new resolve. Our realationship ended before we even had one… We truly were impossible now, as we always had been, I just hadn't known it until now.

_Impossible…_


	15. Sick Person

**Sam**

I had to admit I was pissed off. I had suicide in my grasp… I could have finished it right there. But Bertha had to happen. Of course she did. No matter what I planned if it brought anyone joy of any kind fate would push someone or something into the mix of things to keep that from happening.

Too bad fate was only partially to blame for this screw up. Fate was the one that put Bertha there. I was the one that tried to murder her, when my perfect opportunity to do what I had come there to do occurred.

_Stupid girl. _

I couldn't blame this blunder, on life. This one was all on me…

But damn it felt good to kick her ass. Listening to her blood as it splattered the wall… feeling the silent thud as her huge body slammed against the cement floor on impact… knowing that she'd wake up tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day, and many more after that with the bruises I inflicted…

I knew the fact that those things made my happy was probably a sign of an honest to god psychopath… that I was one sick person to enjoy the pain that I caused another human being… but the warped truth of the matter was that I was a sick person.

I can't help but smirk as I look out the window, at the winding Seattle streets, when I think of Bertha as she screamed…

I can acknowledge the fact that I'm a nut case, if a nut case gets to kick Bertha Pucket's ass.

Perhaps I could forgive myself for this mishap. Dying was the most important thing to me now… but it feels good to know that even after I'm gone Bertha will remember my name… and not just as a scum bag, but as the scumbag who almost killed her.

The same sadistic smile is still on my face as we pull into the parking lot and started to open the doors…

**Sorry that my chapters are a little short I promise a long one is coming up REALLY soon. By long I mean like 2,000-3,000 words.**

**~Icu**


	16. Vain

**Carly**

I glanced up at the sun as struggled to shine through the gray sky that constantly covered Seattle. Seattle wasn't the best place to live if you were an optimist. This was a city for people who could stand to never see the sun, except for the occasional dreary here and there through the mist and dark clouds. I sit down on the edge of the fire escape allowing my feet to dangle through the rusty iron bars. Watching the cars as they pass me by. It was interesting how I could sit here on the side of this building just staring at the people of Seattle, as they come past my little corner of the world, and speeding off into the distance before I can even see if they're driving a truck or a car, not leaving anymore aware of my observing presence as they were when they entered it. I could be here for nine forevers, and still no one would bother to look up and notice me. I suppose the phrase "If I can't see you can't see me." Doesn't apply to this situation. I could see them quite clearly ever not one of them ever would see me.

The silence was only broken by the subtle creaking of the ancient fire escape, under my weight. This was the first time I had truly been alone in a while. I couldn't really remember the last time. I'm one of those people who always, has other people buzzing around them.

I'm too reliant on others… I've known that from a young age. I expected Sam to always be there. I always expected Spencer to be able to fix my problems the way a big brother should. I expected Freddie to always adore me. But most of all I expected one thing out of everyone. Love. Admiration. Devotion. Practically worship…

Well at least I was honest with myself.

In public I was a different type of girl. Modest. Patient. Eternally happy.

The truth only came out when I was alone. Just with myself. That's when my true soul came out. And why shouldn't it? The one person should have to hide from is themselves. I could acknowledge everything I actually was here.

It was strange knowing that if someone magically appeared next to me I could change in an instant. Adapt to the situation faster than Einstein could comprehend and suddenly, I once more find myself tangled in my own web of lives.

I was never the same person when I was alone. Alone I always empty, but not only because I'm lonely but also because I was starving for a attention

I wasn't proud that I was so arrogant, but everyone is what they are and there is nothing they or anyone else can do to change that.

No I'm not proud of what I am when I'm alone. The monster who lives only for the moments when she can hear someone say her name… for the exhilaration of recognition… to fake perfection and steal the hearts of everyone she meets.

When I'm with anyone even my own family I can't help but lie through my teeth with every move I make. All the people I love and love me back… they only know the illusion of a girl named Carly Shay.

I can't say I'm a happy person. Happy people don't tell lies. They are the gullible people, who believe them.

I can't tell you that I am a good person. Good people are the ones who enjoy a good game of hero. They're the type who will give up everything for a stranger. Sucks for the earth, that the good guys in real life, aren't anything like comic book characters. In this world there are no Superman's, or Wonder usually woman's. Sadly the nice guys, in this screwed up city, we call home; don't even get the chance to finish last. The justice bringers here have more weaknesses than just kryptonite. In Seattle the good guys are dead before they even start their heroic deeds. They're too easy to take advantage of and for them there will always opportunist to take them for a ride, and when their done with them, get rid of them,

I can't say I'm all that beautiful. In my own opinion I'm actually quite plane. I'm not that tan not that pale. My eyes aren't the amazing endless brown, I want. My nose is a little too small, my lips a little too large. There were prettier girls.

I wasn't that talented. I can't sing. I can't dance. I'm not very good with public speaking, icarly doesn't really count as public. I'm in a room with my two best friends and a camera going crazy. I can't draw or paint. I can't create magic like the performers of the worlds.

But I never claimed to be any of those things did I?

All I really need to be to get the attention I crave is the monster inside me. The monster that can fake every single one of those qualities that I will never have flawlessly.

My name is Carly Shay, and though I can never claim to be all that, I'm not just claiming this. I am a hundred percent addicted to the lime light.

I love the feeling that radiates from me with every breath, with the knowledge that I am absolutely loved.

But I hate how vain I know I am…. It's kind of sad when I'm being honest with myself


	17. Amazing

**Freddie**

We drift through the door, hauling massive bags of groceries in from the van, and dumping them on the table the instant we made it to the kitchen.

Mom started to put the food up in the cabinets, and she looked absolutely exhausted. We had taken the stairs up to the apartment, each towing sacks from waltermart filled to the brim with everything from toothpaste, to bananas. My mom had carried in more than both me, and Sam put together.

Automatically I said "Mom, Sam and I will do that if you want us to."

I signed her up for the chore without her permission, and I knew she didn't like that by the way she glared at me. But hey I was going through all the trouble rescuing her again and again, out of the goodness of my heart, without even a "Hey Freddie thanks for you know saving my life and all." In return. The least she could do is put away a couple of groceries.

"Oh no, just go and watch TV, or whatever you kids do. I'll be fine."

I reluctantly walk out of the kitchen, with Sam trailing silently behind me. We reach the living room, the air fully charged, with an emotion I doubted that either of us would ever be able to name.

Neither she nor I plopped down of the plush tan couch, or turned on the television. Both of us simply staring into each other's eyes. I felt my blood run ramped as I tried to come up with the right words to say. Is there any proper way to greet a suicidal maniac, that recently assaulted her step aunt, you had not twenty minutes ago saved from a nasty run in with the law, and almost killed herself twice in the course of a few hours? Oh yea and to make things even more complicated, I was absolutely and undeniably in love with her.

When my brown eyes met her blue ones I swear the universe crashing all around them. I could feel electricity pulsing between us. I knew I was the only one in the room that could feel the electricity, but how can something so powerful only be felt by a single person?

I tried to convey with my eyes, that I wasn't going to be the first one to speak.

She seemed to get the message but instead of making the first move, as I expected she just continued to stare at me.

For just a moment I thought I could see a wisp of longing in her face, but the second it appeared she turned away from me… It was probably just a trick of the light.

She angled her head in just the right, so that her long blond hair covered her expression. Sam didn't turn back to me as I had a assumed she wood, she slowly, stepped over to the couch, her feet barely making any sound against the shag carpet. Then as if she was abruptly too tired to stand she collapsed onto the couch.

I fallow suit and sit on the opposite end of the sofa, leaving the middle cushion, the one directly next to her empty. She picks up the remote off the side table, and without a word turns on the television. She begins to flick through the channels, never stopping at any specific one. After what seemed like forever she settles on some program about upcoming standardized testing. It looked as though she wasn't paying any true attention to it as she looked at some footage from last year's tests of a classroom filled with students scribbling in answers and erasing the answers they wrote, then writing them all out again. Sam glanced at it with a microscopic bit of interest. Suddenly she twisted her neck, so she faced me.

The sound of her voice made me jump. I hadn't been expecting her to say anything. Just look. Sam was funny like that. Even before her mom died, she had a certain strange way of looking at someone with no obvious motive, and not speak a single word, and for some bizarre reason it never would feel awkward. I guess it was because most of the time she wouldn't really be looking at you, it just appeared like she was, she was always gazing at something just behind your shoulder, something only she could see.

"It _is_ kind of amazing don't you think?" She mused, almost sounding like she was talking to herself. But I knew better.

Still, though I knew she wasn't talking to herself, I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about… she continued, not needing a reply.

"Look at those kids on the TV. There has to be a hundred of them in that classroom, and yet they all are inside their own little worlds. They're not even really aware of each other's presences. It is amazing how people can be so close, only a few feet away, but still so far away from you…It always seems we don't get close to someone unless they're thousands of miles away."

I can't help but gawk at her, as I realize that she had a point. In a weird philosophical, hypothetical kind of way.

She goes back to watching the television, uninterested once again. That was random.

But nothing really was making all that much since as of late so for all I know spontaneous outbursts are the new normal.

My thoughts are interrupted by a sound that could shatter windows, and make blood run cold. A single solitary scream.

The first thing that jumped into my mind of course, was Sam. She must of somehow, gotten her hands back on that dagger, and when she stabbed herself she couldn't contain a shriek of pain… but Sam was right here by me. And there was only one other person in this apartment…

Mom!

**Yep another cliffhanger. Thanks for the reviews, and sorry that I didn't post as soon as usual today. **

**~ICU**


	18. My life

**Freddie**

I burst out of my position on the couch, my eyes going wide with fear for my mom. What the hell happened? No one could make my mom scream like that... Standing straight up, only allowing myself to feel the adreniline coursing through my body for a split second before I ordered myself to run.

_RUN YOU IDIOT!_

I screamed at myself. For a moment I dashed to the left toward the bedrooms, before spinning around and darting the other way. Adreniline gives you physical power but ruins rational thinking. I sprinted faster than any cheetah through the living room, trying despretly to get into the kitchen. Nothing else mattered except getting there. My surrounding blurred as I concentrated on my Mom's shriek, echoing through the apartment, pulsing of the pain mom was feeling. Life has a funny of way of being quick, when you have no where to go, but once your in a dier sitouation, everything plays in slow motion. It felt like my legs were trying to push through a thousand gallons of water. I couldn't do anything fast. I knew I had to be moving faster than the speed of light, but I felt more like I was just intching along...

_God damn, fuck, fuck, fuck it all!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

I scream every swear word I know at myself, in frustration. Sam dashes after me, in the same fashion, and in a few seconds, which were more like a few forevers we entered the Kitchen gasping for air.

The first thing I notice is the the scarlet color that seems to fill the entire room, adorning everything it's red gruesome glory.

_Blood..._

I look down at my shoes and see them swimming in pools of the horrific liquid, but when I look up... thats when the true horror begins.

There crumpled on the floor, beneth a stap ladder leading up to the top kitchen cabnier, bathied in crimson leg bones exposed to the air, protruding from the skin, the sickly white the only thing standing out from the red, lay my mom.

Sam was the first one to react, as I stared down at her in shock...

She knealed down next to her, alowing her knees to be soaked in blood. Putting a hand on my mom's shoulder exclaiming

"Ms. Benson! Ms. Benson are you all right?"

_What a stupid quistion! She certaintly isn't okay, just by the looks of her._

_"_Oh I'm fine just a few cuts and bruises, don't worry about it, I fell down the stairs again... clumsy me. I should be fine by tommorow."

_There aren't any stairs in our apartment..._

Sam flashed me a look full of clear panic, and concern.

"What stairs Ms. Benson?"

Mom stairs up at her with a coy smile on her face, like she couldn't feel any of the pain that sould be radiating from her waist down.

"Oh don't play dumb Lucy, you've only seen them a million times. The ones that go to my grandaddy's study."

There was definetly something wrong... her grandad hadn't been alive for nearly twenty years. I never met him.

"Now if you'll excuse me, Lucy, I have to call Ian, he and Cody got into another little scrap today... but you know how they are. I really should check up on him..."

Ian. I could remember that name, and I fill the rage pumping, as it always does at the sound of it. Ian Thompson... father.

Cody... some distant part of me could recognize that name to. But I felt no resentment at the mention of him. He was around a lot when I was little... always coming over to see mom.

"Who's Ian?" She asks.

"What do you mean who's Ian? He's my boyfriend of course. You've met him, don't tell me you don't remember him?" Mom replies without hesitation, though her speech was a little slured,

"I love him so much... I can never stay mad at him. Whenever he comes around I can't help but be happy, you know LuLu?"

_You're fogetting about the times when he came around, and hit you.... _I think bitterly. I've always wanted nothing more than to light my own father on fire, and I wanted to do so more than ever now, but at the moment there were more pressing matters than my old fantasy. Mom was halucenating. Not a good sign.

_What the hell happened to her?_ I'd never seen so much blood in my life.

"Well, I really do have to go now... Good night Lucy, I'll see you at school tommorow." On that delusional note mom passed out. Sam turned to me, eyes gone wide in terror.

"Freddie! Freddie! I don't know what to do! What do I do? HELP ME, DON'T JUST STAND THERE LIKE A NUBBISH POTATO!!!!!!!!!!"

I knew nothing more about what to do than she did. All I wanted to do was scream, and cry like a little child, and have someone else fix all my problems... But we were the only ones here. No one else to solve our problems. We were on our own. I had to do something.

I struggled to think rationally.

"I... I... Give me your cell phone!"

Sam's eyes go wider.

"I didn't bring it with me! It's still at my place!"

"God damn it, FUCK IT ALL!"

I think that was the first time, I ever cussed in front of Sam. But who gave a shit? It's not like I'm a saint or something.

"Mom hid mine, when she heard all that sexting crap on the news!"

I whril around and punch the wall in anger.

I run into the entry way and pull open the door as quickly as I could, dashing across the hall and practically banging into the Shay's door. I start to kick kick and puntch the door as hard as I can, practically breaking it. After what seemed like forever, Spencer opened hte door, drinking lemonade.

"Hey Fredo, what's with the violent rage?" He said casually.

"Give me your cell." I order.

"What-why? Are you mugging me or something?"

"No time to explain. Give it to me. It's in an emergency."

"Nothing can be that urgent, Mr. Panicy, now why don't you come on in, calm down, and tell me whats wrong."

"SPENDER I SWEAR TO GOD, IF YOU DON'T GIVE ME YOUR MOTHER FUCKING PHONE RIGHT NOW I WILL KILL YOU! RIGHT NOW DAMN IT! HAND IT OVER BEFORE I DO SOMETHING I REGRET!"

Spencer gave me funny look. I meant what I said. I would kill him if he didn't give me his phone.

"I'm sure we can-"

"NOW YOU BASTARD!"

Hesitantly spencer dug into his pocket and pulled out a silver flip phone. I snatched it from him, and bolted back into my house, leaving the door ajar, uncaring of wether or not some crazed murderer walked in. Right now I was confident that I was more dangerous than anything else out there.

My fingers acted faster than my brain did. Automatically dialing 911, before my mind could comprehend what I was doing.

"Hello 911, Operator speaking, what is the nature of you're emergency?"

"My mom, is critically injured and unconsious! There's blood everywhere! She was awake for a minute or two, and she was delusional! She's still breathing but she needs help, get someone over her fast!"

"What is the victim's full name?"

"Marissa Tabitha Benson spelt M-A-R-I-S-S-A T-A-B-I-T-H-A B-E-N-S-O-N!"

"And what is your realationship to Ms. Benson?"

"I'm her son, Fredward Benson! Get over here NOW!"

"Stay calm, we need more information before we can get to you. What is your location?"

"Apartment 218 B Bushwell Plaza, Seattle Washington."

"Good. An ambulence is on the way. They'll be their in just a few minutes. I would like you stay on the line with me until they get there. How many people currently are at the residence?"

"3 including me, and mom."

"Who's the third person?"

"Samantha Pucket."

"Okay, how long has your mother been unconscious?"

"I don't know a few minutes."

"Where does she have the most damage?"

I flash back to seeing her lying in a pool of her own blood, bones poking out of her leg...

I describe the seen to the operator in horrific detail.

I hear sirens getting nearer and nearer, first sounding far away, but getting closer and closer...

"They should almost be there now. You're mom is going to be fine." The operator says.

I hope to god she's right.

My mom had always represented everything good in life... while my father or as I always called him "Ian" (or worse) symbolized everything that sucked. Honestly I didn't just apply them to life... I applied them to myself too. Mom was all my good, wonderful qualities. All I got from her. Ian was my dark-side... everything I hated about me. I half hated them because, they were bad, and I half hated them because those were the things I got from him. And I despisedhim. I was ashamed to say half of me... was him. Whenever I thought about that half... I always had a horrible nightmare of a thought. If I was half him... I could easily become him. I could go through life as his clone. A drunken, drug addict, man whore, with nothing better to do than beat up his girlfriend, living a wasted life made of a hundred percent shit just like him. So I always had made sure to correct it, if I found myself repeating one of his tendencies even if it wasn't necassarily a bad habit, I put all my effort into only living in the brightside of myself, being his exact opposite, doing everything based entirely on what I thought he wouldn't do.

If mom wasn't okay... everything good about life, and myself would be gone. My worst fear would be realized. I'd become him... My darkside would win.

Before I knew it, the apartment was swarming with EMT's, nurses, doctors and everything in between. I can't remember exactly what happened but the next thing I knew Sam and I were riding in the back of an ambulance with the huge bloody mass, hooked up to a million tubes, and moniters that was my mother.

It was only then that I remembered Spencer's phone, I had forgotten to return it to Spencer. Must suck for him. But if anyone had more problems, it was me. In comparison to all this crap, a missing cell, didn't really seem that urgent. Oh boo-who. The artist loses his pear-phone. What a catastrophe! Well cry me a river, Spencer, I have bigger issues.

Let's see two suicide attempts from the love of my life, one brutul assault, a run in with the law, and one critically injured mom, in the course of a few hours

Yea this day was pretty much screwed. By far the worst day I've ever had. I've never been much of a complainer, but seriously? Why did this shit have to hit all at once?

God, my life is _so_ fucked up.


	19. Favorite Memory

_December 12 1984_

_Dear diary,_

_Today was a great day for love! Ian and I hung out and it was really nice. Last Tuesday I asked him if he had any plans for this weekend, and when he said no, I invited him over to watch some movies with me. At first he was a bit annoyed, he normally likes to plan our dates and things like that, but he agreed and tonight we had a lot of fun._

_Winter is a really excellent season… especially for snuggling. The snow's really fun too! I know I'm supposed to have grown out of that but it's so white and fluffy… It's very childish of me but sometimes when I'm walking with Ian, Lucy, Cody… or pretty much anyone I'll fall into snowdrifts on purpose and act like I tripped just to have an excuse to roll around in it. _

_Opps, looks like I've lost my train of thought… I can be so absent minded sometimes. Well back on topic. Ian came over today, and Grandma, and Grandpa were out at a nice restaurant (hey even old people need a date night every now again, right?) so we had the whole house all to ourselves._

_We turned the movie on, and the lights off but we barely paid attention we were too busy with each other. We cuddled under the blanket on the couch, the whole time, sometimes kissing, sometimes hugging, and sometimes just enjoying each other's presence. Suddenly something happened that I didn't expect…_

"_I love you, Marissa." He's said it before but this was the first time I thought he actually meant it. I've loved him since the beginning, and I'm sure he loved me too, but he isn't very good with words… I've always known eventually we'd have a happily ever after. Everyone else thinks I'm crazy even Cody says so… he's always telling me that Ian's a horrible guy, but I know he's wrong. He just has a bit of a temper… and he always apologizes after he does something bad. And sometimes I set him off… It's not on purpose but still I should know better. Ian doesn't mean it, it just happens. It's my fault. I should be more careful._

_He really is a catch. I love him so much, and hearing him say he loves me just makes me love him even more. _

_Every relationship has it's ups and downs… so what's a few downs when in return you have so many ups? This was definitely one of our up moments and I think it's one of our best ones yet. I know someday when we and him are married I'm going to look back on this very minute and I'll feel everything I'm feeling right now all over again, and no matter what's going on I'll feel happy. How can you not feel happy when you think about something as amazing as this? This is already my favorite memory of all time already and hasn't been three hours yet._

_Oh I do love Ian so much… One day I'm going to be Mrs. Marissa Tabitha Thompson, and then I'm going to be able to love him every single day for the rest of my life._

_I love you too Dear diary, Goodnight_

_Marissa Benson_

**Yes Marissa is the basic teenage girl head over heels in love… it's so cliché yet it really contrasts with her personality in the show. I always saw Ms. Benson as kind of bubbly/happy go lucky person in her youth, but as I hope you've already concluded she's changed quite a bit since then, but she's still kind of happily oblivious about things… so yea. The reason I wrote this chapter is because the last IanxMs. Benson chapter was through Ian's point of view number one, and number 2 I thought I would show one of their sweeter moments. Even screwed up relationships like theirs had to have had a few happy times. This is as happy as it ever gets for them though… so I thought I might as well write about it, plus I thought this kind of sums up how Marissa feels about Ian. She kind of overlooks all the bad things he does, and tries to concentrate only on the good ones.**

**~ICU**


	20. Toys

**Carly**

"SPENCER! I SWEAR TO GOD, IF YOU DON'T GIVE ME YOUR MOTHER-FUCKING PHONE RIGHT NOW I WILL KILL YOU WHERE YOU STAND! DO YOU HEAR ME DAMNIT? HAND IT OVER BEFORE I DO SOMETHING I REGRET!"

A voice screamed from downstairs. Now with Lubert around, I was kind of used to random loud swearing outside my door but this was a different kind of yelling. It wasn't just a random hater-gram. And though I couldn't distinguish who exactly the voice did belong to, it definitely wasn't our obnoxious doorman's. Yet it held a familiar ring. Like I'd heard it before but never in this tone.

This voice could make my blood run cold. I felt like whoever possessed it could murder me without battening an eye lash, and would if I got in their way, without even considering the implications. I felt like this man whoever he was, was a cold blooded killer and nothing else. A demon of the worst kind. But that familiar ring in it kept a firm continuous tug on the corners of my mind and prevented me from bursting into tears like a little girl.

Against my better instincts I grabbed a baseball bat for protection, and tip-toed slowly down the stairs.

"NOW YOU BASTARD!"

The voice was closer.

Finally I reached the landing of the stair well, only to see no other than Freddie Benson. Now I knew why the voice was familiar. But none of it added up. Freddie was always calm, cool, collected. It took a lot to get him mad, and even then he wasn't really angry so much as he was bitter. This was something entirely new. My mind automatically registered his expression as one of rage, honest to god rage. But the normal trademarks of the emotion evident in his features, seemed so out of place on his face. I would maybe expect this from Sam, but from Freddie? It was almost incomprehensible. It was like he wasn't even Freddie, but some stranger inside his body, controlling him and his now profanity spewing mouth.

I could only stand and watch as Spencer handed this alien version of Freddie his pear phone. Was Freddie mugging my older brother? No. Absolutely not. Freddie would never do that to anyone no matter how pissed off he was…

Was this really the same guy who'd I'd practically been stalked by since the fourth grade? No. It just couldn't be. But it was. This was only proven farther when Freddie's evil duplicate dashed into his apartment leaving the door wide open behind him.

Spencer whirled around and walked casually back through the door closing it behind him, and turning the lock until it clicked. Like nothing weird had transpired at all.

"Ugh… Spencer what just happened?" I asked.

"Your little friend threatened to murder me then stole my cell phone. The usual, except for once Sam wasn't responsible."

"I know that! I mean what happened to Freddie? He looked… y'know." I said in lack of better word choice.

"Oh yea. He said he wanted me to give him my pear-phone because it was urgent, and it was an emergency. Then he went all crazy and verbally attacked me."

I stare up at him.

"Aren't the least bit concerned?"

"No why should I-? Oh. Oh yea. That. I am pretty concerned about that."

I continue to stare at him hoping that I'll magically gain the power to light anything I want on fire by just glaring up at them.

"Well?" I demand, impatient of waiting for him to take the initiative to go and do something about this.

"Well, what?"

"Shouldn't we go and find out what's wrong with Freddie?"

"Probably."

"Then why are we still here?!!"

"Oh. You kept staring at me and I assumed we were having a staring contest. I knew I'd lose if I started to move around and lose my concentration."

Damn. I hate to say it about my own brother but he can be a real dumb ass sometimes.

I sigh. Typical Spencer. I go to the door not having to look back to know he'd be fallowing, and opened it only to see an ocean of white uniforms and tiny red crosses. EMT's were everywhere. They packed the hall way so densely that you could barely make out any carpet beneath their white nurse clogs. But what disturbed me even more than a million identical doctor doppelgangers, was that they were all crowding around apartment 218 B. Freddie's apartment. Freddie wasn't joking around when he said it was an emergency.

No one's come out of the apartment on a stretcher yet, and I couldn't decide which idea I hated worse. Someone so critically injured they had to be carried to the ambulance, or a person so damaged that there would be no point in moving them, it would be a waste of effort if there was no chance of revival. Or maybe, so says the positive side of me, they all already are out of the apartment and it was only a few minor cuts and bruises.

I can't help but wonder who got hurt. It couldn't be Freddie, as he seemed perfectly fine aside from the anger. That only left Sam and Ms. Benson in the running.

Suddenly everything started to click. Why Freddie had been so different from his usual self, I could understand now.

I flashback to a moment two years ago. We were fourteen, all of us that year. We were sitting up in the studio, each of us on our favorite been-bag chair. My favorite was the red one, Sam's the yellow, and Freddie the blue. It's funny how I can still remember that little detail after all this time, but I do.

It was Valentine's Day. A day for romance, roses, chocolate… the works. We were just talking about what we were going to do for Icarly this week. When out of the blue, Freddie gets on one knee in front of me, a shy smile spreading across his face. He pulled out a card from his jacket pocket and he said very dramatically.

"I haven't been able to get you out of my head since the very first day I saw you. Will you be my valentine?"

Well as anyone can imagine it's kind of hard to find a way to reject that. But I knew this invitation wasn't really for me. So it was easy to shoot down.

I just continued talking about my idea and acted like I'd never heard him.

"Rejected, with a capitol R Fredward. When will you get it through you're thick skull that she will NEVER go out with you?" Sam chuckled.

_Translation: Oh my god. Ask me please. I wouldn't reject you!!! Can't you see that she will never love you like I would? How much longer do I have to play the invisible game? Why do I not even exist in your world?_

The invitation was, will always be, and always has been for her. Sam.

This was only one of many incidences similar to this.

I'd known for a long while about how he felt about her and vice versa. Not that either of them gave up their secret, but it was written all over their faces. It was so obvious to everyone, except themselves. Honestly when I first noticed this I was quite jealous. How dare my best friend steal my stalker! But then I realized how selfish that really was. I didn't even like Freddie in that way, when she secretly adored him. I felt like a stupid child then. The one that takes another kid's toy away at day care and doesn't really want to play with it, but only wants it so the other child can't have it. I sicken myself. I've always known I was vain, arrogant, and above all a liar. But it never dawned upon me until that moment that I also had the capacity to be extremely selfish and disloyal. I know if it had been any other pair of friends I wouldn't have had this revelation. I would have, without even thinking about it, take my friends favorite toy. I wouldn't have regretted or been ashamed. I would have thought it was the girl's own damn fault for not holding on to him tight enough. But these weren't just two random people. It was Sam and Freddie. Sam was my best friend. I would never try and steal Freddie from her. No matter how bad of a person I may be, I doubt I could ever bring myself to hurt Sam or Freddie that way. In my mind they were perfect for each other, so what if I lost a single admirer? I still had thirty thousand to spare. In my book they was no couple more suited to be a couple than Sam and Freddie. They were the two best people in the world only second best to me, and the only people that could ever be good enough for them is each other. They're just… somehow… right together. It seemed like it was bound to happen. Their destiny already sealed. Who was I to interfere? I couldn't hurt them because I loved them. It was also then that I had a second revelation. If I were to hurt them in all the ways I probably could, I'd just end up hurting myself. I was pretty good with physiological warfare. I could break them up before they started, break both their spirits, and damage them mentally and emotionally beyond all repair then cast them to the side for my next pair of toys. But I never would.

To me everyone's a pawn, disposable. Except them. And that's why I never interfered.

But after a while I did get very frustrated. It was so obvious what they both wanted, yet for some reason they'd always keep their distance from each other. I couldn't believe that I'd given up Freddie, my number one worshipper so that way neither of them could find love! I wanted to interfere at this point. Play cupid. But knowing me I'd end up falling into the temptation of interfering in the wrong way, and I couldn't let myself ever do that. Not to them. So I stayed away, will watching and waiting for… I don't know.

I snap back to present at the sound of Spencer's voice.

"Hey, I have an idea. Why don't we ask one of the EMT's what's going on?" Oh god. It was so obvious I should have thought of it myself. So we found an EMT in his white uniform, dashing around in a flurry. He reminded me of that character from _Alice In Wonderland _the white fluffy rabbit that kept saying "I'm late, I'm late, For a very important date."

Even his teeth were rabbit like. Talk about an overbite. He resembled Timmy Turner from that cartoon… what was the cartoon again? Oh yea. Fairly Odd Parents. Okay moving on.

"Hey sir, excuse us but we're friends with the guy who lives in that apartment. Do you know what's going on?"

He turned to us, pausing for a moment in his frantic frenzy.

"Oh dear, Oh dear, Things are not looking good, not looking good at all!"

Yea this guy has to be a Disney character of some sort. I'd never heard anyone in real life talk like that.

"There's this lady living in there, you might know her, Ms. Benson I think. It looks like she tripped from a very high step latter while trying to put groceries in the top shelf. Normally this wouldn't be a big deal, but she landed in just the worst way! Her bones broke through the skin, and now everything from her right knee down is protruding from the leg! And if that's not horrible enough she sustained a pretty good concussion as well! Her two children just left in the ambulance with her, and they're headed for the hospital."

"Which one?" Spencer asks.

"St. Francis."

"Thanks, man. Come on Carly, looks like we're headed to St. Francis!"

And for once we're both exactly on the same page.

**Sorry I ended up picking something completely different. Don't worry though all those other things will come in due course. By the way if I break the my review record (11 reviews to 1 chap) I'll update sooner. So go for 12 people! (no pressure.)**


	21. I Don't Hate You

**Very sorry for the hold up. Lost Microsoft Word for a bit and couldn't write. Though I did break my record! (Incase anyone is curious.) But sadly I broke my promise. I updated slower than I would have otherwise and for that I am sorry. I said I would update quickly in exchange for 12 reviews. I got 12 reviews yet I didn't uphold my side of the bargain. It's dishonorable and I sincerly apoligize. Please try and understand I was simply a victim of circumstances. I did not intentionally keep you waiting to build up angst or anything of that nature. I thank you for your patience and for your many reviews. I read every one and take them each to heart. I could not have gotten this far without your support.I'm not one for mushy stuff, so I'll just get on with the story I suppose.**

"Hurry, damnit! I could drive faster than this!" Freddie barks at the ambulance driver.

"Calm down, Sir. I assure you we're doing our best." Spoke an EMT gentley.

"Calm down? Calm down? My mother's dying not three feet away and you're telling me to fucking calm down? What the hell is wrong with you?" He shouted back at her.

"We're doing the best we can." She repeats.

He looks like he's about to go off on her again, when I decide to step in.

"Freddie. She's right. You need to calm down. You're not helping anyone, when you scream in her face. Now sit down, and let her do her job." I command in a whisper. I try not to be harsh. I could understand why he was reacting like this. I would have done the same thing if I had been present during... I shudder. I'm not going to think about it.

He whrils around and turns his icy glare on me. I brace myself for the anger I know is about to come.

"You...YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE BITCH! I take you in, I save your life over and over again, I even covered for you about Bertha! IF IT WEREN'T FOR ME YOU'D BE CRYING ALONE IN SOME FOSTER HOME! AND THIS IS THE THANKS I GET? You of all people telling me to calm down! HA! WHAT A JOKE! To think I'd thought I'd get some good karma off letting you live in my house, and my mom is dying not three days later! I THOUGHT GOD WOULD FINALLY CUT ME SOME FUCKING SLACK! SCREW GOD! I HATE GOD! FUCK YOU TOO SAM! I DON'T NEED YOU I HATE YOU,YOU LITTLE SLUT! YOU'RE NOTHING TO ME, THE SAME WAY YOU WERE TO YOUR MOM! MAYBE IF YOU HAD BEEN A BETTER DAUGHTER SHE'D HAVE CARED ENOUGH TO FUCKING LIVE!"

I stare up at him, and my soul seems to sting at his words. He hates me. But I already knew that. It's how he ends his cruel remarks that tares and claws at my emotions. Suddenly his face that I was still looking up at's eyes went wide at it's own tounge's severness. His skin formally flushed with rage, deminished in color until it become stark pale.

"Sam... Wait... you know I didn't mean it. I'm sorry..." Yes you did. You did mean it. You told me nothing I didn't already know you thought. You do hate me. Every word you said was true. Why are you sorry? You're words hurt but you have nothing to regret. You didn't tell me any lies. What hurts me is hearing these words from the lips I dream of kissing... that's what tore me apart inside. Not his oh so true utterances.

"You're crying... I'm so sorry, Sam... I didn't mean it. Really." It's only then that I feel the tears rolling down me cheeks. Why? Why am I weeping? He told me nothing I didn't already know. Stupid tears. Stupid girl. Stupid, useless, sobs.

Some of the EMTS look up at us in confusion. Can't say I blame them.

"Sorry." He repeats. "Listen, I'm just fucking scared, okay? My mom.... my mom isn't exactly in good shape right now. Even thIough I'm scared out of my fucking mind, that doesn't give me an excuse to take it out on you or on the EMTS. I just snapped. Please stop crying."

"Don't be sorry. Everything you said was true. You hate me. I understand. Don't apoligize if you meant it."

I know I'm entering dangerous territory. I'd strived for so long to hide my affections. I was getting close to admiting what I'd sworn I'd never say. I won't say I'm in love with Fredward Benson. Not to him not to anyone. I was about to blurt out everything I'd always concealed with my life, telling him I knew he hated me was so close to saying 'I know you hate me, but I love you.'

He bites his lip and avoids my eyes. He looks everywhere but my eyes, and appears as though he's debating what to say. I took it simply as conformation to my accustion of hatred.

He glances down as he speaks.

"I don't hate you."

My heart flutters, and I curse it becase my brain comprehends what my heart doesn't. He's saying it out of polietness not out of love nor lust. Yet I can't stop my racing pulse for some reason. Like some type of phycsical reaction to the inner desire that his kind words were true. But will my heartbeat went rampid the tears haulted in their tracks.

Freddie finally fallowed the advice that had origonally triggered the toxic sitouation in the first place, and sat down next to me and kept quiet for the rest of the ride to the hospital. Sometimes he'd glance over at me, but most of the time he focused on the EMTS surrounding his mother with a fearfull expression prominient on his face.

_"I don't hate you..."_

Those would be the words that would linger in my ears tonight before I go to bed.

_"I don't hate you..." _

The words I would surely repeat to myself in my most optimistic, hopeful moments.

_"I don't hate you..."_

The words that would haunt my dreams, swirled in with mothers back from the grave, happilly ever afters, and other fantastically impossible things that would leave me empty and dissappointed come morning.

_"I don't hate you..."_

The words that were absolutly, completly, and irrevociably untrue.


	22. Friend

**Thanks for the input. I plan to stick with my originally plot but I'll incorporate you're ideas anywhere I can. You're probably not interested in this little fun-fact about _Custody_but it may surprise you to know I never have any idea what point of view I'm going to write from. What I usually do is start writing in one point of view and when I fail miserably with that perspective I rewrite from one of the other ones. Then if that doesn't work I end up writing from a supporting character's point of view. Sometimes if I think it's needed I rewrite the same chapter to show whats going on simultaneously with another character. A complex system if there ever was one. Also when I started writing this I had not clue about Ian and Marissa. It just sort of happened. And then before I knew it they were semi-main characters. **

**Most shocking of all- When I started _Custody_I had no idea Sam would attempt suicide. Again I just started typing and it all fell (in a very amazing blunder) into place. Oddly enough it became the plot driver for the whole thing. If she hadn't have done that it would be a totally different story. Strange how the world works isn't it?**

Anyway**... on with the story.**

**Sam**

We had finally made it to the hospital. I wanted to break down and cry again. But then I felt guilty, because Freddie had so much more to cry about and yet... no tears fell from his eyes. How could I be so weak with him trying to be so strong? Plus... what did I really have to cry about? A few unkind words? When had I ever been so sensitive? Never. Never before. Then again had his lips ever been so cruel before? So it made sense.

What hurt the most was... No. It wasn't even one thing. It was a mixture of everything. From his words to their harsh sting... it all burned.

But if I had to pick one thing out of everything... it was definitely the knowledge that every word he said was one hundred percent intended to hurt. Sure he'd said things like that to me before... but it was always teasing. Never that... destructive. It was playful not painful. Here it was an entirely different story. Comparing those taunting moments between us and these cruel phrases... it was like comparing a kitchen stove burn to someone intentionally coming up to you and lighting your hair on fire. Ones temporary. Only a slight hurt. Easy to get over. The other is... not. It's deliberate. Scarring. Permanent.

And those words... I knew I'd never forget them. He'd painfully branded them in my memory forever. I'd been certin for a while now, even before mom...

_No. I won't think that word._

That I'd still be left with lingering thoughts of him... his words... his actions... long after icarly was dissolved and forgotten, and we'd all gone our seprate ways. I'd remember him up until the day I died. Maybe even after.

Now it was absolute. I would always remember this day and it's toxic sting. Always remember him in this moment. The horrible thing about that is that this is the one thing about him... the single memory... I'll always want to push away.

Then again how long is 'always' for someone like me? I hadn't fully given up on death. 'Always' is a word with implications. It's a word belonging to someone with the time for 'always'. Freddie wouldn't be able to play hero forever. I would eventually succeed. It would just take a bit of patience.

But I couldn't leave him today. Not tomorrow either. Maybe not for a long time. His world was collapsing, leaving everything in ruined shambles. His mom was halfway to death's door. He was just as crazy as me at the moment. I would have to be a monster to leave him all alone in this mess. Of course he'd have Carly if I were to leave him behind... but... sometimes even the love of your life isn't enough. Sometimes you're starving for comfort from anyone who can give it. Even someone you hate with a passion. Sometimes... you need me.

It wasn't that I had any doubt that Carly would do her best to help Freddie through this... it was knowing that if I killed myself it would throw him totally over the edge. Even if he despised me with every ounce of his being, I was still familiar to him. He knew me. He knew my blond hair and blue eyes and the sharpness of my tongue. And if one more person in his life were to die tonight... he'd die too. It was that simple. It would be selfish to die now, when he was already torn apart.

Deep down... deep deep down... maybe he'd grown to just maybe... feel something for me as well. Not love. Not the same kind of emotions that caused my heart to beat so wildly at the mere sight of him. Not what makes me laugh like a giddy school girl every time he comes around. Not what kills me to watch him suffer. But possibly... and don't get me wrong it's a pretty 'out there' thought probably just wishful thinking... possibly he'd developed some strange brand of affection for me too. Not the affection he reserved for Carly. But maybe... a dysfunctional type of friendship. Comradery. And would it be right... would it be fair... to die with a 'friend' in this condition? No.

I would live for him. Just a little longer. Just till he could stand on his own two feet. Then... yes. It would be the best thing for both of us... if I died.

I saw his smile in my mind's eye. That slight twitch of the lips that would always brighten my day without fail. I would wait. Yes, I would wait to see his smile one more time before I killed myself. Once his smile beamed as brightly as it had always done... I'd die with no regrets. I'd die happy.

With this new found resolve I listened intently to the screech of the brakes as we pulled into the parking lot. I heard the subtle _click_, of the ambulance doors opening. Smelled the scent of Ms. Benson's blood, metallic, and gruesome, and disgustingly prideful in the air. Watched as the younge men, and women, draped in their clean white coats wheeled Ms. Benson and her gurney off the vehicle and onto the asphalt below, then racing her towards the building in front of us. Felt the rawness of my soul still bleeding. And I saw each individual, movement Freddie, each seprate from the last as he heaved himself up and took wavering, disoriented, traumatized steps in the same direction the EMTs were rushing towards. He tried to mimic their efforts but only seemed to get more clumsy as he attempted to force his body to move at a pace that the shock he was under forbade. I saw the desperation to move forward so evident in his eyes. Yet he seemed to go in slow motion.

I sighed. This is what friends were supposed to do right? Lend a helping hand?

I hesitantly stood up and within seconds I was by his side. He looked up at me uncomprehendingly but made no comment. He was putting all his energy into making it inside the doors of this establishment. He didn't have the will to speak to me, nor to do anything else that would distract him from his minuscule, clumsy movements. It was hard to believe that this boy just minutes had been screaming his head off.

I carefully but firmly grabbed his hand in mine. I resisted the desire to do much more than simply hold his hand, but I couldn't stop the trail of burning fire that ignited every where our skin met. I realized with a brand new wave of suffering that this was as close as we would ever be. The most I would ever get to touch him. The only time I'd ever get to hold his hand like this.

But Sam Pucket had never been one to accept the things she didn't like was she? So I pushed the limits a little farther, by gently pulling him closer to me. I dared not go any farther. Even I had to accept this restriction. If I didn't... in the end it would just bring about more pain, and trouble for both of us. Closing the distance between just added fuel to the fire that could never be doused. This fire... it didn't burn, or wreck, or ruin. Like all the other fires I'd heard about. It was somewhere hidden in the thin line between ecstasy and melancholy... followed by a strong, endless, depthless longing.

I reminded myself of the word 'friend' and of it's consequences. I reached out my hand as a friend not as a...a... partner? It wasn't the exact word I was looking for but it had loosely the same meaning.

This smoldering... wasn't something that belonged under the title of 'friend'. It was so wrong... immoral... unjust. But how could something so wrong feel so undeniably right?

I want to mangle the word 'friend'. I want to bend and reshape it's letters, then rearrange them, and scramble them until they spell out a word that can handle this scorching blaze. I want to murder 'friend' and resurrect it as a word I can only fathom in dreams.

Alas though... this is reality where the impossible is impossible. Where dreams don't come true. Where mothers die, and love isn't always meant to be.

So I satisfied myself with holding his hand and helping him stagger toward his broken, bloodied, mother. I pulled him along gently but swiftly to the hospital doors. He glanced up at me his expression careful, guarded, unsure... then his chocolate eye morphed into a new emotion. One I'd rarely seen in the years since I'd know him. A wavering, uncertain, gratitude.


	23. Destiny's A Bitch

**Alright. I'm sorry for not updating. Try and understand I've had something traumatic happen to me recently and on-top of it all I've had a lot of things that needed to get done. I forgot all about updating for a while, and when I finally remembered, it didn't feel the same. I felt like I'd lost my motivation. Since then I've fully recovered and I promise to never go without a single chapter for this long ever again. Also the word Faggot is used several times in this chapter, sorry if it offends anyone. I'm very much so for Gay Rights and am actually quite passionate about it. Sorry if the word offends you. :P**

**~ICU**

**Freddie**

_My mother is dying. I made Sam cry. My mother is dying. I made Sam cry._

My thoughts were like a broken record player, repeating the same two phrases over and over again.

I was a horrible person. I hurt her for absolutely no reason. All she did was tell me to calm down and I lashed out like she had committed murder.

And if that wasn't enough, I did _that_ to someone I _cared_ about.

If I was capable of doing that to someone I held any affection for whatsoever, I was an awful human being. Even worse it had been _Sam_; the girl I'd been in love with since before I'd even hit puberty!

She meant more to me than my own life. Yet that hadn't stopped me from being absolutely terrible to her. I made Sam cry, and for that I was a despicable waste of space.

Like Ian. Just like fucking Ian.

I was his son after all. It was in my genetics.

The brown eyes revealed everything. Broadcasted the secret I can never completely hide. Telling the world of a twisted 'love' story starting with a kiss and ending in a nasty bruise. Never allowing me to forget who I am, the blood that runs through my veins. Never letting me let go of the past and look forward to a bright future.

Because a bright future doesn't exist, never has, never will.

Not with chocolate brown eyes. Not with Ian's eyes.

They say eyes are the window to the soul. I very much so agree.

Sam has blue eye's belonging to some type of angle. Mom has the gentlest hazel. Carly has brown, but hers were different than mine. Hers weren't evil.

I was doomed to a life of destruction. Rage. Broken promises. Broken emotions. Broken hearts. My fate's been irrevocably written by my blood.

What can I say? Destiny's a fucking bitch.

I can't allow myself to find happiness with anyone. That 'anyone' would only get hurt. They would only regret ever meeting me. I would be their ultimate ruin. It's not something debatable, it's one of the most definite facts in life.

If 'anyone' were to fall for me I'd be the worst mistake of their fucking life. They'd be better off dead than with someone like me. With someone like Ian.

Then of course there's the thing that makes me in a way, even worse than my father. My 'anyone' was Sam. _Sam_ of all people. The one that had potential. If we ever were together, I would undoubtedly wreck that potential. I'd ruin her chances at a great life.

I am Ian. Ian under a different name.

The sick thing about all this? I still fucking want her. I still fucking _love_ her. I can still feel my heart beat increasing wildly in tempo every time I see her. I know it's wrong but I can't stop. I can't let it go. I wage an internal war between two conflicting desires every day of my life. One part of me yearning selfishly to see her hand in mine… and much more than that on occasion. The other part wanting to keep her safe, guard her future, save her from me and my so called 'love'.

I'm not meant to ever fall in love. I'm meant to cause turmoil, meant for destruction. Meant for anything that doesn't involve affection, or kindness.

As I said, Destiny's a fucking bitch.

So the irises prophesize, and so it shall be.

Mom was dying. It was all my fault. If I had just stayed behind and helped her put up the groceries like a good son she'd be fine.

It was all my fault. No one else to blame.

I deserved to burn in the deepest fucking pit hell had to offer, and worse!

I wish I'd never been born. My life wasn't worth shit.

I remembered being a little kid. Watching her blood splatter on the wall, listening in horrified silence to her screams as tears ran down my own cheeks, while she fell apart. Not able to do anything about it. Thinking that one day my mommy was going to die by Ian's hand.

Stupid child. Should have known it would be me instead.

God I'm worthless. Fucking moronic, idiotic, pathetic, hopeless, bastard!

_MURDERER!_

I screamed at myself mentally as I wobbled out of the ambulance.

_MOTHER-KILLER!_

I took a single shaky step onto the pavement.

_VILE, SON OF A WIFE BEATER!_

No matter how hard I tried I couldn't get my feet to move swiftly. They kept fumbling over each other. I couldn't even fucking walk straight. So useless. Mom was dying and I couldn't even be with her, I'm so useless. Useless, useless, useless!

I flash back to a memory of a scene from my childhood days, better left forgotten.

_The disgusting stench of alcohol rolls off him in waves, potent even from here._

_Mommy's on the floor again. I can't tell if she's bleeding tears, or crying blood anymore. _

_I don't know what she did to deserve this. I don't think Mommy does either. I wonder if Ian knows, but he probably doesn't. He's just drunk. This is what happens when he gets too drunk._

_I hate him. He hurts Mama. He hurts her all the time._

_I can't do anything about it. He's big and I'm not. _

_He's such a bully._

_I don't know why Mommy says she loves him. I don't love him. Neither do Gabe and Ellie. _

_Ellie once told me he's like the monsters from the bed-time stories she reads to me. Gabe says he's something called evil._

_If evil is another word for bully I guess he is. Gabby's always right anyway, so Ian must be evil. _

_Gabe and Ellie aren't here. They're at the schools for big kids. They'll be home in a little bit but for now I'm all alone with Mama and evil Ian._

_I don't know what to do. I can't help Mommy. He's not stopping. I can't make him stop!_

_What if he doesn't stop and Mommy dies? What if he kills me too? What if he goes to the schools and kills Gabby and Ellie?_

_I'm so scared. I can't run away from the bully. I can't fight him. Mama can't either. No one was going to save us!_

_Tears ran down my cheeks and I sobbed. Mommy was going to die! Then me and everyone else! Ian was going to beat us dead! Then he'd dump our bodies in a lake, or a dumpster, like they do on CSI!_

_I couldn't stop crying. THE BULLY WAS GOING TO KILL ME!_

_Ian turned to me alerted by the sound of my bawling. His eyes danced with cruel fire as he looked me up and down. He smiled viciously before glaring down at me._

"_I can't believe you have the fucking nerve to call yourself my son. Sniveling little faggot." His tone full of malice and rage._

_Oh god. Maybe he'll kill me first._

"_Does little Freddie love his bitch of a Mother? Is that why the little fag's crying?" His words slurred into baby-talk as he insulted me._

"_Well if little Freddie loved his Mommy so much why doesn't he save her?" He showed all his teeth in his smirk._

"_Go on fag. Save your Mama." He swiveled around back to my Mommy and kicked her in her side. She yelped loudly. He laughed._

_He came back to me._

"_Aw! I thought Freddie loved his Mommy? I guess not. He can't even help her. How pathetic."  
_

_He kicked her again._

"_Guess you're just as useless as you look, faggot. Pathetic." He drawled in my face, the disgusting odor of booze and cigarettes meeting my nose as his breath assaulted my face._

_With that he staggered away from me and out the front door, without another word to me or to the woman he "loved"._

_He slammed the door on his way out._

_After a one moment of stunned silence Mama moans quietly, her suffering taking up a sound._

_I wiped my tears away. I shouldn't be crying. Not when Mommy was hurt so much and I wasn't even scratched._

_I stumble over to her and sit down next to her whispering words of comfort like Ellie would have if she were here._

"_It'll be okay. He's gone Mommy. It's all gonna be alright." I slowly pulled her head into my lap and let her wrap her bruised hands around my small body._

_She opened her eyes, her pupils were huge, and the whites were blood-shot._

"_F-Freddie?" She gasped._

"_Yes Mama?" I replied immediately._

"_I love you. Never forget that. I love you. I love you with everything I have." She states. Her lids are heavy. She lost a lot of blood that time. I think she's going to pass out soon._

"_I know Mama. I love you too." I responded quickly._

_I hated Ian with all my soul. I loved Mama with all my heart._

_Not two seconds after that her eyes slipped closed and she fell asleep._

_I sighed. Now I was left to clean up the evidence._

_Using all my strength I pulled her up on top of the beat up, green, couch in the living room._

_I walked into the bathroom, searching under the sinks under the sink for only a moment before I found the bleach. I grabbed it, along with a few hand towels and sponges of the rack._

_I made my way back to the scene of the crime and worked at getting the blood out of the carpet and off the walls. My hands stung slightly from the bleach but not very much. _

_After an hour or so of scrubbing on my hands and knees I'd gotten it all out._

_I checked on Mommy. She was still unconscious. _

_I set on the floor, Indian style waiting for Gabriel or Ellie to get home._

_Useless. Ian had called me useless._

_The word rang in my ears over and over._

_Useless. It's true. I am useless. I couldn't save Mama. I am a useless 'faggot' whatever that word means._

I was only seven years old. Already I'd lost my innocence to words like 'faggot' and 'bastard' from my own father's mouth.

I shudder at the memory. Ever since then I've hated that word. Useless.

I struggle forward. I have to get to mom. I can't let her die! I'll be just as useless as I was back then if that happens!

God damn it! Why couldn't I move fast enough? FUCK!

That's when I felt her. She snaked her gentle hand around me and helped me forward. Sam.

I looked up at her surprised, and feeling guiltier than anyone could possibly imagine. I'd hurt her. I'd made her cry. Yet she was helping me. She was actually _helping_ me.

I felt like shit for what I'd done.

She meets my gaze with one of her own, full of emotions I couldn't quite name.

God l fucking love her. But I can't love her. I'll only ruin her if I love her.

I felt love under all the guilt washing over me. So immoral. So wrong. So sinister.

She all but carried me towards the hospital doors. I stared at her in wonder, guilt, and gratitude all the while.

The receptionist greeted us with a smile. The ER was a pretty weird place to be smiling but whatever. Just so long as I got to see my mother, whether she smiled or frowned was of no significance.

"You must be Ms. Benson's son and her… um… friend." She seemed to debate what category to put Sam under finally settling on the term.

I nodded swiftly and out of the corner of my eye noticed Sam do the same.

"I'm sorry Mr. Benson but before we allow you to see your mother we have some questions to ask of you."

"I already fucking gave the information to the lady on the phone! Now tell me what room my mother's in!" I barked at her angrily.

If they didn't let me see my mother right now I was going to kill someone! With or without walking ability, heads would roll if they kept me here any longer!

"Calm down sir. We just need a little more information."

"Freddie… it's necessary. You need to calm down and answer her questions." Sam's voice whispered quietly.

I was ready to go berserk on her again, but remembered her tears and stopped dead in my tracks. The rational side of me told me she was right. The irrational part had a very different opinion… but I decided albeit hesitantly to go with the rational side.

That's not what Ian would have done. So therefore it's what I did.

"FINE!" I shouted. Sure, I'd answer their questions but I wasn't going to do it politely. Whatever was quickest.

The other people in the waiting area looked up at me like I was crazy but I didn't care at all. At the moment I wasn't exactly sane anyway.

"Alright then. Does she have any known allergies?" She asked.

"Peanuts, Red-dye-number-4, Latex." I recited promptly from memory.

Many pointless, questions later she got around to the final question.

"Finally, it says on her records that Ms. Benson gave birth to two other children. Would you prefer to contact them or would you rather not?"

I looked briefly over at Sam to see her blue eyes wide with surprise and confusion. I could understand why. As far as anyone in Seattle knew I was the only child of Marissa Benson.

It's a long story but… I'm not all I appear to be.

"T-two other children? You need to get your eyes checked lady, cuz last time I checked Fredward here was all on his own."

The stupid woman glanced down at the open file in front of her again.

"Nope… says it right here in the records. A son and a daughter." The receptionist answered sounding slightly bewildered by Sam's reaction.

"I'll explain everything later, Sam." I whispered through clenched teeth.

I felt anger surge through me.

No one was ever meant to know of the past. It was supposed to be left behind along with the windy city of Chicago. We were supposed to start with a clean slate here in Seattle, far away from home and Ian, and anything else that was supposed to be ancient history.

And now my cover was blown all thanks to that idiotic, secretary's big mouth. She just _had_ to ask that question out of everything else in the world she could have said.

Now one way or another I'd have to tell the truth to Sam.

She wouldn't rest until she'd found out everything, now that a single piece of the puzzle was up for display she wouldn't give up until she had it completely assembled into it into its full gruesome glory. All a thousand horrific pieces of the story of The Bensons. All the Bensons.

That was how Sam worked.

The fucking cat was out of the bag.

I glared at the woman behind the desk.

Sam continued to look at me in stunned befuddlement. I simply nodded my head in response to the woman's earlier, incredibly stupid, question; keeping my lips furiously pursed into a tight thin line all the while. Yes. My siblings needed to know about this. I would contact them.

Ellie and Gabby. Looked like it was time for a little family reunion.

Not only was my mother dying, and my life in fucking shambles now I had to explain to the love of my life about my long gone, brother and sister that absolutely no one knew about. This just keeps getting better and better doesn't it?

Destiny's. A. Fucking. Bitch.

**Again sorry for the really long time without updating. I found out my dad was back prison a few weeks ago. For some unfathomable reason I actually cared. So yea I was messed up over it for a while, though I don't know why seeing as I hate him with all my heart. **

**I love you guys so much. I hope you liked the chapter! Review please…**

**~ICU**


	24. Angel

**Hi everyone,**

**I have a serious updating issue. Anyway I've gotten over a fairly rough patch in my life, and I hope some of my old fan base is still here. I love all of you guys so much and I never would have gotten this far without you. **

**So please review, even though you probably hate me for taking so long to update. I included some more… fluff than normal. SPOLIER: They hug! (I know it's not big but you guys have waited a long time for progress so be happy. I couldn't exactly have them in a random make out session.)**

**Please review. I seriously do take them to heart, and they motivate me to keep writing. Without them I could stop forever… no pressure.**

**PS. Merry Christmas! Happy Hanukkah! Merry Ramadan! Happy... uh... oh screw it my point is enjoy your holidays and what-not.  
**

**Love,**

**ICU**

**Freddie:**

"Alright, then. If you don't have a cell phone on you, there's a landline in back." the woman said, before going back to riffling through stacks of paperwork as though nothing had ever happened.

This woman had some fucking nerve. My mother was dying, and she wanted me to go make a fucking phone call? If I hadn't been making a true effort to restrain myself, she would have undoubtedly taken some serious damage to the skull.

"EXUSE ME?" I shouted into her face as obnoxiously as I possibly could. I hoped my breath smelt bad.

There were probably politer ways to get her attention, but fuck it. I was angry as hell.

She looked at me blankly.

I was sure that my face had long ago gone crimson with rage, and I probably looked like some kind of feral animal at this point. But fuck it all. I didn't care anymore. I just didn't care.

Not about anything.

Not about consequences, not about Gabriel, not about Ellie, not about Ian, not even about my life. If I died in the heat of my burning fury so be it. If the world would have exploded at that very moment, I wouldn't have given a damn.

All that mattered was my mom.

_And Sam… _

After the woman blinked at me a few times indifferently she responded.

"What do you want? I told you the landline's out back."

At that moment something inside me snapped. My very last ounce of sanity I guess.

"WHAT DO I WANT? WHAT DO I WANT? I WANT TO FUCKING SEE MY FUCKING MOTHER WHO IS FUCKING DYING! IS THAT SUCH A COMPLICATED IDEA THAT YOU CAN'T WRAP YOUR MORONIC BRAIN AROUND IT? YOU STUPID BITCH! I DON'T WANT A CALL, I WANT MY MOM! WHAT ROOM IS SHE IN, DAMN IT!"

The other people in the waiting room looked at me like I was insane. I didn't fucking care. They could think whatever they wanted to just so long as I got to see my mother.

Hush. Every single person went silent in the wake of my shouting. Every ear was listening intently, and every eye ball rested upon my face.

The woman kept an irritatingly calm demeanor. I wanted fear. I wanted to see her turn to ice as her heart beat wildly and she begged for mercy. I wanted my glares to pierce her like daggers. I wanted my words to fall like atomic bombs on her soul.

At that moment I hated that woman with a passion that I normally reserved only for my father.

Somewhere deep inside, in my heart of hearts I knew it wasn't fair to despise her so… but at that moment what was fair and what wasn't meant nothing. All I knew was that she was keeping me from my mother.

Her unconcerned eyes suddenly became sympathetic.

"Sir, I'm sorry but I can't permit you to see your mother right now. She came in such a critical condition that she's being operated on as we speak. If you go in you'll disrupt doctors while in the act of saving her life… If I were to let you see your mother now she would die without a doubt, Mr. Benson. I'm sorry."

I listened to her words but couldn't quite grasp them. I couldn't see my mother? At all?

Suddenly the burning rage died and was replaced by a new feeling… a dazed, empty, confused feeling that was just as potent as the anger but haunting in a way that mere anger never could be. It was like sorrow… except… completely different. It was deeper than that. Much deeper.

It was cold inside my heart. Like there was this storm hidden inside my chest that no one could see… Not even just a storm. A tornado, a tsunami, and a hurricane all combined to plague my very soul.

All eyes in the room were on me, as I scrambled to find coherent words.

"But-but- you said that once you got the information you needed I could go see her!"

The woman sighed.

"I lied, honey. When you came in with all that rage I knew that you would never talk unless I told you what you wanted to hear first."

"But-but-"

I listened to my voice and I didn't hear the blood-lust, or the malice that I'd heard before. I only heard the voice of a terrified, lost, little boy. So raw, so heartbreaking… and so oddly pure in the most agonizing of ways.

I listened to it and it reminded me of the innocence that was tainted by evil at such a young age… the blood on the carpet, and the screams in the night.

My weak, scared, voice reminded me of so much.

The sleepless night, the broken beer bottles… memories I wish I could forget but I know I never will.

It reminded me of my childhood. Every wretched minute if it.

I was blind to the rest of the world as I saw the past flash before my eyes in a whirlwind….

Ian's face. Brown curly hair. Disgusting beer breath.

A younger version of my mother. Her face bloody.

A crying me.

Ellie beaten on the ground.

A shrieking Gabriel.

I closed my eyes and prayed for the end… but the end never came.

The images just kept on coming one after another, each like a fresh wound to my soul.

Tears pricked in my eyes… These memories were so painful that they rendered my helpless. I was trapped within them. My mind was my prison.

I don't know how much time elapsed. It could have been minutes. It could have been years. Maybe it was just a single instant suspended in time. It doesn't really matter.

But eventually someone saved me.

A gentle hand grabbed my shoulder and stayed there. I opened my eyes and through the tears I saw the palest of fingers. My head snapped up, and I saw her.

A swirl of blonde hair, skin like crème, and blue eyes that peered into my very soul.

Sam.

_Of course the angel will always save the mortal… that's how the story always goes. _

God damn it all. Why the hell can't I stop crying?

I felt the tears as they cascaded down my cheeks one by one.

I was so alone, and empty. So broken. Without my mom I had no one. No one left.

This level of loneliness… It was torture. It was endless, unwavering torture to know that I had no one left that loved me.

I looked into those blue eyes and just for a second, I lost all rational thought process. I just needed someone to love me so bad. I needed another human being to show me some compassion amidst all my agony.

Just for a second I forgot about what a horrible person I was.

Just for a second I forgot about Sam's potential.

Just for a second I forgot about how impossible we were.

Just for a second I let all that go…

And I threw my arms around her and sobbed into her long blonde hair. I allowed my cheek to brush hers, and the rest of the world to melt away as I blurred the lines I'd tried so hard to create and maintain. It felt so good to touch her. This moment was so beautiful, and the tears and the memories that still were swirling around in my mind were so painful. It was the best moment of my life, surrounded on all sides by my worst nightmares. I never wanted it to end. I wished we could have turned into statues, and stayed just like that forever.

I felt a burning wherever our skin met, that wasn't like any fire I'd ever felt before. It was the most passionate, wonderful, magnificent fire to ever burn.

I cried and I cried, and after a while I started to wonder if it was because of my horrible memories or because I knew that too soon this precious moment would end as she pushed me away.

But she never did.

She pulled me closer. She embraced me, and we melted into each other's forms.

I couldn't stop smiling but I couldn't stop crying either.

I looked into the eyes of the angel and watched as her own tears cascaded down her pale cheeks. I couldn't figure out why she was crying, but it didn't even matter because on her lips was a smile that canceled out all else.

And so the angel and the mortal stood together locked in a single embrace, weeping and smiling at each other. And I, the mortal, saw all the heaven I'd ever need in her eyes.


	25. Love

**Dear Readers,**

**I've decided to try something new. ACTUALLY RESPONDING TO YOUR REVIEWS! *GASP* I've always said I read them all (and I do, sometimes several times apiece when I have writers block) but I don't think I've ever responded to a single one. So here we go:**

**Invader Johnny- I can't figure out if this is a good review or a bad one… I know the story gets kind of repetitive but eh. It's for the story's development (kinda).**

**Kpfan72491- Yea. I'm pretty much amazing aren't I? *laugh***

**Violet0Oscar- Well I have experienced some of their feelings, so maybe that's why I describe it like that. It's nice to know that you like my story. I work hard on it, and I always love to hear from people who appreciate it.**

**Foxtail-Padfoot- I don't think it really was, but it's nice to know that you think so. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside to know that you think this chapter was worth months without an update. I love all your reviews so much! Thanks for taking the time to review pretty much every chapter. You're incredible.**

**Goyi-chan- It's cool. I love how you described yourself as my "silent reader" it made me laugh. I would hope it's a nice story if you've taken the time to read all 27 chapters! Thanks for taking the time to read and review (Even if you're reviewing for the first time. *tut-tut* Shame on you.)**

**Veeheart914- Really? You'd be surprised the number of reviews I get saying someone cried… I love hearing that! The way I see things is if I can make people cry, then I can evoke true emotion, and if I can do that then I am honestly a good writer. I RELISH IN YOUR TEARS AND SORROW! (Just kidding. Kinda.)**

**Geekquality- Tell me about it. I love reading dark fics too, but I have no idea why… Thy're even more entertaining to write than read! I love writing about Freddie's dark-side… and Sam's too. I have no idea why but my writing always seems more… just all around awesome when I can put things in a depressing light.**

**I hope you all enjoyed your replies. From here on out anyone who reviews will be replied to (even if they're not logged in). So drop me a review and I'll get back to you in the next chapter. **

**Oh and because I'm in such an awesome mood today I'm going to give you guys a present! I thought some of you might like seeing my **_**Custody **_**playlist. It's what I listen to a lot when I'm writing as I've found that if I listen to certain songs when doing certain characters I do a better job writing from their prospective. Also there are a few songs that remind me of them even if I don't use them as writing tools… I'm going to post up one character's playlist per chapter. You don't have to listen to all of them I just thought some of you might enjoy seeing them.**

**Freddie's**

**-Hanging by a Moment by Lifehouse (For Sam. I especially like the part where it says "I'm standing here until you make me move" because it reminds me of him trying to save her.)**

**-Animal I have Become by Three Days Grace (Freddie's dark side mixed with his past. I listen to this when he's angry.)**

**-The Good Left Undone by Rise Against (About how he thinks it's wrong to be in love with Sam. He thinks he'll end up hurting her if he loves her. Also about how he'll do anything for her hence the "I'll fallow your voice all you have to do is shout it out". Plus my favorite line "All because of you, I believe in angels, not the kind with wings, no, not the kind with halos, the kind that bring you home when home becomes a strange place" it fits perfectly.)**

**-Wonderwall by Oasis (Perfect for Freddie's feelings on Sam.)**

**-Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls (So cliché but so unbelievably cute and it fits the last chapter especially well…)**

**Sorry for the SUPER long author's note I just felt like being… I don't know… today. Hope no one minds.**

**Love you guys,**

**ICU**

**Sam**

I could feel my heart hammering against my chest, and hear it's thumping in my ears. It fluttered and pounded and soared… it was a beautiful feeling. Like flying.

This moment felt so right and so wrong at the same time. It made me feel sick to the very core of my being to be in his arms when he loved my best friend. I felt like I was somehow taking advantage of his weakness.

But it was so perfect to be here. It felt so unbelievably… magical. Wrapped in his embrace I felt so whole. Like I'd just found the lost piece of my soul, that I'd never even known was missing until it was back in place… I felt so complete.

I looked into his brown eyes rimmed red and I couldn't help but love him.

No matter how much I knew it was impossible, I loved every single thing about him. His messy hair, his stubbornness, his dorkiness… his everything.

As he cried, I couldn't help but pull him closer. Everyone in the room was staring at us, but it didn't matter. The whole world seemed to melt away in the heat of the moment.

It was hard to believe it had only been this morning I was trying to kill myself, and now not a few hours later I found myself here. Not only alive, but more alive than ever before.

I was actually glad I hadn't succeeded… if I had I never would have experienced this bliss.

I was in love. No doubt about it. I knew love was a strong word… but what other word was there? I'd liked him for years, and the fire that burned through my veins… that wasn't a simple crush.

It had to be love.

He cried, and he cried, and he squeezed me tighter and tighter into his chest. I threw my arms around him, and held my breath waiting for him to come to his senses and end this.

But he never did.

He just sobbed, and sobbed and after a while he started to smile for no apparent reason as the tears continued to fall.

I didn't know exactly what to do but before I knew it I was crying too… it was like some kind of automatic reaction. I met his smile with one of my own.

I knew it was just because he was so distraught… not a real hug. But it felt like it was. It felt so completely real… More real than anything else.

I could forget everything with our bodies entwined… I could let it all go. The pain of losing my mother… the pain of heartbreak over a relationship I never even had… the pain of being second best to Carly… the pain of unhappily ever after. It was suddenly all gone, lost in the perfection.

I knew that he hated me… that this was just an embrace of desperation. But I could pretend that he loved me too… if only for the moment it felt as though we weren't just Sam and Freddie… but _us._ No separation of the two. Like we were together in every sense of the word.

_Us._ Not he, me, I, you… but us. The word echoed in my mind and it felt so right. Like it belonged.

I smiled even wider. Us. It could never be… but in the heat of the moment it seemed like anything was possible.

I kept waiting for him to let go, and get a grip. But he never did.

I looked into his eyes, and he looked into mine. I saw no loathing there. No anger. Just vulnerability mixed with something I couldn't quite name.

I thought about all that had led up to this moment… the arguing, the suicide attempts, the death, the misery, the rage… it all blurred together in a big dreadful mess.

A single poem echoed in my mind. One of the ones mom used to read to me… How I love thee, by Emily Barrett Browning…

_How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.  
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height  
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight  
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.  
I love thee to the level of everyday's  
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.  
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;  
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.  
I love thee with the passion put to use  
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.  
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose  
With my lost saints,—I love thee with the breath,  
Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if God choose,  
I shall but love thee better after death. _

It was a poem that fit the moment so well… I loved him in every single way that I could. I loved him with my heart, my soul, my mind. I loved him with my happiness, my delirium, my suffering. I loved him with everything I had… even if he'd always love Carly instead.

Always and forever. And long after forever was long gone.

**One hell of a fluffy chapter… sorry for the fluff overkill but I figured it was about time I did something that wasn't about death and sorrow. REALLY FAST UPDATE THIS TIME TOO! Please review...**


	26. The Return Of Bertha

**Dear readers,**

**Hi! Thanks to everyone who reviewed! You have no idea just how happy it makes me, even if it's just a few words long. Oh and by the way… Because of how pleasant she was the first time around *note my sarcasm* Bertha is back! (I know how much all of you have missed her…). This chapter is more of a humor break than anything… come on after 20 chapters of straight tragedy and angst it's about time I threw in some humor… Oh and I have a favor to ask all of you. I'm trying to make it to 250 reviews. I am currently at 231. If I can make it to 250 reviews, I'll reward you all with a SUPER long chapter (like maybe 5,000-7,000 words) and all I'm asking in return is that every single person review (that is a direct shout out to all my "silent readers". REVIEW!) . So if you want a super long chapter instead of just my normal 600-2,000 word chapter… you know what to do.**

**Foxtail-Padfoot- Glad to know you think so! I figured it was time I actually did something… more on the cute side than on the misery and suicide side. Nice to know you think it's sweet!**

**Invader Johnny- Yea… I know she wasn't exactly in character in the last chapter. Nice to know you still liked it though.**

**Geekquality- Hmm… perhaps I'll check out your fic when I get some time. I LOVE DARK FREDDIE TOO! I don't really know why… but he's so fun to write about. **

**CcQTccQT- Hi! Is the QT part of your name by chance related to Quick Trip? I love that gas station. Their slurpees are awesome. I haven't been to one in like EVER though because they don't have any where I live… Okay totally off topic. Anyway… Yay! New reader! I'm so glad you decided to stick with the story until it got up to this point. I honestly think the earlier chapters SUCK, so it's nice to know some people can look past that and keep reading until it gets (no arrogance intended) pretty much amazing. You're right I do get a ton of reviews saying it really brought out emotion… YAY EMOTION! I've looked around iCarly's fan-fiction a little and I've come to find 1****st**** person perspective is kind of a rarity… I hadn't known that when I started writing it, but I'm definitely glad I chose to write it in the format I did because A LOT of people apparently enjoy it… I'm so happy to hear you like it!**

**SamPrincessPucket- Thanks for reviewing! You have successfully given me many warm fuzzies! I honestly never intended for this story to be as tragic as it is until I was about half way through it and then I realized: "Damn… this story is kind of depressing."**

**Goyi-Chan- Don't sweat it. I was just kidding. It's perfectly fine that you'd never reviewed before. Silent readers do kind of frustrate me to be honest, but I have a lot of them. I'm just happy that you've chosen to start reviewing! You make me so happy! I was worried that the fluff was overkill after all the darkness… nice to know you think it's not too much! Thanks.**

**XxThe Penny TreasurexX- Hi! Nice to hear you love it. Your reviews always bring warm fuzzies to my heart… And as for Freddie's mom… you'll see what I have up my sleeve soon enough.**

**Kpfan72491- Nice to know you liked it!**

**Okay so… character play-list.**

**Sam**

**Prayer of the Refugee by Rise Against- Don't really know why it just does.**

**Be my Escape by Reliant K- This is a Christen band and I have no set religion (I'm spiritual but not religious) but I still love this band. This song is supposed to be about Jesus, but I relate it to Sam and Freddie. Honestly it doesn't just remind me of Sam but the whole relationship… I feel like I can hear them saying the lyrics when I listen to it.**

**Mr. Brightside by The Killers- It's how she feels about Freddie and Carly.**

**Love you guys,**

**ICU**

**Freddie:**

God only knows how long we stood there for, crying and smiling and wrapped in each other's arms. It could have been seconds, it could have been hours. I really couldn't have cared less.

But of course all good things have to come to an end, though no one ever wants them to.

"God damn it, boy! Are you bipolar or something? One minute you're screaming at the top of your lungs, and the next your hugging your girl-friend! What the hell is wrong with you?" A voice screeched from behind my back.

I whirled around to face my attacker and was surprised to see a woman that I vaguely recognized. She had bushy brown hair that was slightly matted, but coated with mysterious bald spots, and skin that was bruised everywhere. Her arm was in a sling, and she looked like she'd been through hell and back.

Her nose was scrunched up like she was smelling something really rotten, and her lips were pursed into a firm line. Her squinty eyes were glaring daggers.

When I looked back at Sam she was the image of pure unadulterated loathing.

The woman in front of me paid no attention to her, as she continued to glower at me.

"Bertha!" Sam shouted at the woman.

_Oh yea… Sam's bitchy step aunt. Almost forgot. That explains where I recognize her from…_

The woman gaze suddenly snapped from me to her step-niece, the look on her face quickly shifted from sour to downright evil.

"I almost didn't recognize you… I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN IT WAS YOU! You'd be the only one stupid and slutty enough to let the psychotic piece of trash touch you!"

All eyes were on us. I could see the secretary eying a walkie-talkie on the corner of her desk as though she were deciding rather or not to call security on us… couldn't say I blamed her. We must all look like complete whack jobs. One minute yelling, one minute crying, one minute hugging, and now we're back to yelling again… we'd certainly caused quite a scene.

"YOU'RE SUCH AN IGNORANT BITCH! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'RE EVEN TALKING ABOUT!" Sam shouted back.

"You're probably fucking him too… You're such a whore, Samantha. Just like your mother… You'll do anything for some attention!"

"YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT ME!"

"I know enough to know you're a slut, a delinquent, and a liar…"

"SHUT UP! WHY ARE YOU EVEN HERE?" Sam screamed.

"_Someone _assaulted me or are you too retarded to remember?" Bertha sneered.

I felt my mouth drop open. It wasn't that hard to understand why Sam hated her…

Suddenly Sam's angry mask morphed into a subtle smirk as Bertha reminded her of her past victory.

"WIPE THAT GRIN OFF YOUR FACE BITCH!"  
"Why don't you wipe it off for me _Auntie_?"

I could feel the situation escalating by the second… If Sam had another little violent outburst no doubt they'd kick us out of the hospital and I'd never get to see my mother…

As entertaining as it would be to watch Sam claw Bertha's eyes out I decided to intervene.

"WOULD BOTH OF YOU JUST SHUT UP! YOU GUYS ARE IN A FUCKING HOSPITAL NOT A STEEL CAGE WRESTLING MATCH!" I found myself screaming.

They both looked at me blankly, surprised by my interruption. Then Sam stared at me with a wild look on her face, her eyes still rimmed red by crying and snarled.

"BUTT OUT FREDDORK!"

I was shocked. She finally seemed to have reverted completely back to her normal, violent, crazy self… at least for the moment. It was then that I realized if Sam was out for blood there was nothing I could do to stop her.

I sighed.

At least I could say that I tried.

So I decided to just sit back and enjoy the show…

**I feel like such a horrible "tragic" story writer… first a ton of fluff and now this… Maybe I've lost my touch? Still this next chapter is going to be fun. And yes I do know it is fairly short… But don't forget about my SUPER long chapter that may be coming up depending on rather or not I get up to 5,000 reviews. I will by no means stop writing if I don't get 250 but I will have a lot of events in one chapter… and it won't take me forever to write it either (once I sit down and actually start writing I normally just go and go.) So remember to drop me a review! **


	27. Rage, Twisted Entertainment, And Praying

**Oh my god. I didn't think it would actually happen. I honestly didn't think I'd make it to 250, I just said that with a vague hope that I expected to go unfulfilled but thought it was worth trying anyway. I am literally in shock. 250 reviews (not all for the last chapter but still there). I am in awe at how incredible you guys are!**

**I'm not usually one for the mushy stuff, but I feel like it's warranted here. **

**I started writing this when I was eleven years old. I'm about to turn fourteen now, and the past three years would have sucked a lot more without your support. As some of you know I've had a tough couple of years. I've lost friends, cried, had my heart broken, found out my dad was in prison (twice), watched my grades go down the toilet, watched my mom cry… I've made friends, laughed, let go of the past, brought my grades up, watched the world reassemble itself in the course of a few weeks right before my very eyes. I had my heart broken for the first time, was hated for the first time, watched the universe crash all around me and the heads roll. **

**My point is my life hasn't been the best the past couple of years.**

**Since then I've managed to climb my way back up from rock bottom and get back to reality. I've suffered, I've survived, and am beginning to thrive in a new stage of my life.**

**I've seen the dark and I've seen the light, and I've thought I was too far gone to be saved. I honestly gave up for a while on everything because I thought there was no hope left.**

**I've recently discovered I was wrong. I have a dream, and I'm going to achieve it. I have a life that I'm going to be happy in. I have friends, and family, and something worth fighting for.**

**Through it all, the ups, the downs, the tears and laughter… the one thing that's been constantly there helping me make it through everything, has been this story. Not just this story, but the people who read it. **

**Through everything, no matter what, you my dear readers have been there. You've held my together, and motivated me to work for something.**

**I just want you guys to know that when everything else in my life was falling apart, I found a way to be strong. Some people get strength from their families. Some people get strength from their religion. Some people get strength from their goals. I get my strength from you.**

**When no one else was there, you were. You helped endure. You helped me carry on. You helped me prosper.**

**So, I write this chapter not only for 250 reviews but for all you've given me that I'm afraid I can never give back.**

**By the way because of the super long author's note I've decided not to do replies and the character playlist so I can get on with the story, because I know you all want to stop reading this author's note and get on with the story. For any of you who are curious, this is the longest chapter I've ever written. It's roughly three thousand words, and covers about what would normally be three individual chapters. Have fun.**

**Love,**

**ICU**

**Sam**

I looked into her eyes and could have sworn I saw Satan looking back at me.

I hated her.

I was never a nice person, but I never hated anyone. Not really. Rage and violence, were just part of my nature. It wasn't personal.

I never hated anyone, but I hated her. I hated her with all my heart, and soul. I honestly wished she would die. People say stuff like that all the time "I hope you die", but no one really means it. If that person were to literally drop dead you'd regret saying it. You'd feel awful. You'd feel like a murderer.

If the person were Bertha, I wouldn't give a damn. I either wouldn't care or I'd be overjoyed. Probably the second one.

I wouldn't feel like a murderer. I'd feel like I did the world a favor.

She was a bitch. There was nothing else to her. She was shallow cesspool of arrogance, selfishness, cruelty, and bitch juice with a dash of slut oil.

I'd known her all my life, and she'd never been any different. There was no secret soft side, or anything about her worthy of life. Just flat out bitch.

She deserved to suffer, and burn in the deepest pits of hell.

I felt a burning hot rage coursing through my veins. A primal, violent, beast inside of me yearning to rip its claws into its weak, unsuspecting, prey.

I glared daggers at her.

After that morning's events you would have thought she would have learned not to talk to me like that. Apparently she hadn't learned her lesson.

She was an idiot for not realizing the first time around that it was a bad idea to piss me off.

And now she would pay.

I let the familiar beast inside of me take control, as I allowed rage to overcome me. Violence came so naturally, attacking her was as easy as breathing.

In the past few days, the world had shattered. It had changed, and in turn I had changed along with it. But as I charged toward my target, for the first time in a long while I felt normal. I felt like who I was before.

And it felt right. It felt right to let primal aggression take over. It felt right to be here.

Just like it felt right to hug Freddie.

The embrace I'd shared with him was part of the new life I led. That magnificent fire was part of the aftermath past had left behind.

This violence was part of my old life.

They were two moments from two different lives, two different worlds entirely, that collided inside my soul and entwined together felt like two halves of a whole that fit together perfectly. They felt like part of who I was, and like they belonged together but they were from two different universes. The fire of passion and love, and the fire of rage… one from the present one from the past. They both felt like pieces of the real me, but the issue was I didn't know who that was anymore. The more I figured out the less I really knew.

Who was the real me?

I remembered who I used to be.

I loved my mom. I really did. When I was young she used to read me poetry as I fell to sleep, and lined the shelves with the books of her favorite poets.

She was once a fortune teller. She had a little room in the back of our old apartment where she'd tell people of love, and money, and what their futures held.

She was like a child… she never got a real job. She never tried to. She just played psychic all day long, and never grew up. She liked to pretend, and I didn't really mind. It paid the bills and made her happy, and just so long as we could afford the rent and decent food I didn't care.

She liked to gaze at the stars, and I remember when I was little we'd sit outside on the summer nights and trace constellations with our fingers. We'd sit there together and listen to the music of the night and sometimes she'd sing along. She's make up words off the top of her head and sing them aloud and all the universe would seem to pause and watch as her voice echoed around the globe.

She liked black cats, cloudless nights, vanilla scented candles, chocolate ice cream… she loved to stay up late and watch movies, get up early to watch cartoons, waste the days away locked up in her room reading her books… and more than anything she loved me.

And then I got older and everything changed.

It started slowly. When I was eight she stopped reading to me. I didn't think much of it; I figured I was getting too old to be read to. I continued to read on my own though.

When I was nine she started leaving me alone at night. I remember sitting up waiting for her, but always falling asleep too early to catch her and waking up the next morning with her splayed out on her bed passed out.

When I was ten she quit telling fortunes all together. When I asked her about it she told me there were other ways of making money and that I should let it go.

When I was eleven her blue eyes got redder and redder and each morning they seemed to get more and more bloodshot.

When I was twelve I noticed the poetry books on our shelf had a thick layer of dust like they hadn't been touched in forever. I looked for ham in the fridge and found nothing inside but beer.

That's when I stopped reading poetry and started slacking off in school. The fridge never got any fuller, and soon I began to eat at my friends' houses.

When I was thirteen I woke up in the middle of the night with my mom stumbling in with a dazed look in her eyes and a clear brown bottle in her left hand. She fell over and passed out half way to her room and the bottle smashed onto the floor breaking into shards of glass.

That's when I realized the truth. My mom still loved poetry, black cats, cloudless nights, vanilla candles, chocolate ice cream, and me. She just loved beer more.

I never stopped loving her, but as the years went on and the seasons passed and her wavy blond hair grew silver and matted I realized that though I'd never stopped loving her… maybe she'd stopped loving everything except alcohol.

And then she died and I cried, and I cried, and memories started flooding back. The poetry, the stars, the summer nights that seemed to go on forever… And I loved her. I loved her more than I ever had before. But she was gone, and I was still here.

I missed her, and I sobbed, and I forgot myself in my sorrow.

Then came the rest. The suicide, the Bertha, the Freddie…

And now I was here.

So who the hell was I anyway?

The little girl who loves her mama? The preteen who mooches off her friends and who's mom doesn't love her anymore? Or the teenager filled with sorrow, suicidal thoughts, and a love for Freddie Benson?

None of it made sense.

I pondered all of this in a single instant as I threw myself at Bertha ready for the attack.

I smiled a little bit as I sank my finger-nails into her already bruised skin.

_This one's for you mom…_ I thought silently as she shrieked.

I grabbed onto her hair and pulled as hard as I could. Half of it came off in one cruel yank of my hand. She screamed.

I didn't think about what I was doing. I just let the rage control my actions and the rest fade into the background.

I kicked, punched, and bit, and pretty soon my ears were ringing from her loud cries.

The hatred flowed freely and drove me on and on and on with each hit.

I looked into her eyes and saw blind fear there, like a deer in the headlights. I loved the terror so prominently displayed on her face, and I loved her blood as it hit the sterile white walls, and I loved her wild shouts for help that went unanswered. I loved torturing her with every blow, and watching the tears cascade down her battered red cheeks.

My mom had hated her, I hated her, and she was bitch who deserved everything she got.

"Hello? Hello, security, this is Sheila at the front desk requesting assistance. We have a code twelve blue in progress, over."

I barely heard the secretary's annoyingly high pitched voice in the wake of my brutality but when I did I didn't slow down. I just went harder and faster, knowing my minutes were numbered and I better fit in everything I could while I had the chance.

**Freddie**

I watched her, and all I could think was_ damn._

She was going absolutely insane on that woman. I hated Bertha. I barely knew her and I already knew she was a bitch. I didn't judge people before I got to know them that often, but for her I'd make an exception.

I hated her, but I still pitied her a little as Sam beat the shit out of her.

I thought I'd seen Sam at her worst that morning, but I knew better now. This was her worst. Compared to now, what happened at Walter-mart was a playful shove between friends.

Everyone in the waiting area seemed to be at a loss for words. No one moved, no one spoke, everyone just gaped wide eyed and open mouthed at Sam and her victim.

I watched just as silent as the crowd, but not due to the shock. I was abnormally calm and almost amused in a sick way.

It was kind of demented but it made be happy to see Sam look so… Samish. Plus Bertha was the bitchiest woman to ever live, and though I felt kind of bad for her it wasn't very much. After everything she'd said she deserved it. It wasn't like she was getting the smack-down for no reason.

So the suicidal girl I was in love with seemed to be okay for once and the bitchy woman I hated was getting her ass kicked. What could say? All was right with the world and I was thoroughly entertained.

Then I remembered my mom and realized that if Sam got us kicked out I might never see her.

I thought about tearing Sam away from her prey myself, but thought against it when I realized it was a serious risk to my safety. I decided to go with plan B and hope for the best.

I turned toward the secretary who was sitting there, just as still and shocked as the rest of them. I waved my hand in front of her until she blinked and her gaze snapped to my face.

"You might want to call security. That girl won't stop until someone makes her stop, and if she doesn't stop soon bad things will happen. Believe me."

The woman didn't respond but grabbed the walkie-talkie from the corner of her desk and started to shout frantically into it for security.

I turned back to Sam and Bertha and continued watching.

Bright red blood was everywhere and every inch of Bertha's skin was covered by a swollen bruise of a nasty gash.

Sam looked almost happy, in a weird psychotic rage kind of way.

She was so beautiful when she tried to kill people… I smiled.

_And so the angel kicks the demon's ass… oddly fitting…_

**Carly**

After spending about five minutes hailing a taxi, we finally started to make our way toward the hospital.

I hoped Ms. Benson was okay… I never really liked her. She was annoying, and too-clean… she treated me like a little kid. Everything about her just irked me. She was too perky, and too paranoid… she was just all around kind of creepy…

I knew she loved Freddie but… it was really weird how protective she was over him.

But even if she irritated me she didn't deserve to be in the hospital, and from what the EMT said it was pretty serious. On top of that if she was unable to take care of Sam, Sam would go into foster-care and Freddie would end up god knows where…

So my mom was dead, my dad was at war, Sam had never met her dad, her mom had just died, I didn't have any idea where Freddie's dad was, and his Mom was in critical condition at the hospital.

Damn, we had horrible luck when it came to tragedies in the family.

I was fortunate enough to at least have Spencer…

I thought of losing my mom while my dad was half-way across the world… it was horrible, but at least I had my big brother to help me get through it. Sam didn't have anyone, and Freddie wouldn't either if the worst happened.

What happened with my mom was terrible, but at least I didn't have to endure the pain alone.

I hoped to god Ms. Benson was okay, for everyone's sake.

As we drove to St. Francis I sat there and prayed with everything I had for a small miracle. I'm not a religious person, I never went to church, and I didn't believe in much of anything. But when all else failed and there was no one else to turn to I turned to god, and I begged for Ms. Benson's health.

I sat there in the back of the Taxi, rested my head against the window, closed my eyes, and pleaded with god or whoever was up there to help Freddie's mom.

I didn't stop praying until I felt the car screech to a sudden halt. I flung the door open and once out, started to rush towards the big white building looming in the distance.

Spencer paid the cab driver and dashed after me.

I was panicking. What if Ms. Benson died? Then I'd lose both Freddie and Sam at the same time… my two best friends gone just like that. If she was gone, my only true friends would leave with her.

And I couldn't take that. Anything else, but not the loss of both of them.

I couldn't hold the fear in anymore. I needed someone. Anyone. I needed my big brother.

"Spencer?" I gasped as we ran toward the hospital.

"Yea, Kiddo?"

"Do you think Ms. Benson's going to be alright?" I sounded like a little kid thinking that if an adult said it, it must be true. A little girl looking for reassurance that everything would be okay.

He paused for moment then seemed to know what I needed. Comfort, and a confirmation of hope.

He put his left arm around me in an awkward embrace as we ran.

"Yea, Carls. Ms. Benson will be fine." He said convincingly, and because I wanted to believe him I pushed my doubts away and let myself believe.

His arm dropped as we finally stood in front of the automatic doors as they slid open for us.

We dashed in and were met with an unexpected sight.

Freddie was leaning against the front counter staring at Sam… who was a being held against the wall by two buff guys in red uniforms as she struggled beneath their grasp and shouted curse words I didn't even know were in existence.

There was blood everywhere and on the floor was an almost bald, unmoving, heap of flesh wearing a blue hospital gown.

All I could think was:

_What the fuck?_


	28. The 4 Things That Are Permanent

**Hey everybody,**

**I can't believe it's been two months already… For those of you that are curious I do actually have an excuse this time. My computer crashed. We just got a new one (it's a silver HP laptop). I'm also getting ready to enter high school, so that's been a little hectic, plus my birthdays coming up and that just makes me like really ADD. So, I've been meaning to update for a while but shit happens… So on to the replies:**

**Geekquality- Aw! You're so sweet! (I love Carly at the end too).**

**Baronvonmilo- *pats self on the back as instructed*.**

**The person that reviews- When I read this it literally made my day. (I'm very happy that you valued the story enough to write the review under the extenuating circumstances you are under thanks to the accursed iPhone).**

**Invader Johnny- That was my intention… I wanted to make it funny and slightly disturbing at the same time.**

**XxThe Penny TreasurexX- When I created Bertha I was going for someone every single person would hate… I literally sat there and thought "How do I make the bitchiest woman possible?" it looks like I've succeeded. It wasn't as hard as one might think either.**

**Foxtail Padfoot- I love the way you ended yours… Thanks. You do make a big impact on my life.**

**Ang- Thanks.**

**Werefaerie120- Sorry, I've put off updating this long despite your much appreciated encouragement…**

**Kpfan72491- Thanks.**

**Goyi-chan- I was so happy while writing the previous chapter… giving Bertha the smack down is something that when I reread it I feel proud of myself… Sick, but true.**

**So time for playlists…**

**Ms. Benson**

**Pretty Girl-Sugarcult. **

**I would show a few more songs but I don't want to give away too much before I actually write it…**

**So let's get on with the story... This chapters a little short, but I promise the coming chapter will all be fairly long. I have something planned that I think everyone will like. **

**Freddie:**

I watched idly as two big, muscular men wearing identical red uniforms came bursting out of the elevator that was just to the right of the secretary's desk. Their faces showed no emotion, and the floor shook slightly under the impact of their heavy foot-steps.

They didn't waste any time. They jumped straight into the fight.

It was a losing battle from the start. Sam had no real chance. She was a fifteen year old girl weighing in at roughly one-hundred-and-twenty pounds. They werenot just one, but two, adult men weighing likely well over two-hundred pounds. As if the odds weren't already against her, she also had lost a lot of her energy while beating the shit out of her step aunt.

The outcome had already been decided. It was only a matter of time.

To Sam's credit she lasted a good four minutes against them. Considering the circumstances it was pretty impressive.

I noticed that the Security Guards made no move to hurt her. They just kept trying to get her into a position where she couldn't fight anymore. Sam ended up causing them a lot more physical damage than they did to her.

In the end it wasn't their blows that caused her defeat, but her own. Every time she struck them it cost her vital energy. The effects were subtle at first, but as her attacks wore on they grew more and more pronounced, until finally she was dead on her feet.

Sam sometimes seemed to be invincible. She was strong as an ox, brave as a soldier, and as crazy as any murderer. When she was succumbed by rage she was lethal, and capable of almost anything.

But the truth is everyone had limits, even Sam. And she had just maxed out those limits.

She kept fighting even after her body had given out on her. She stumbled and swayed, but she kept on throwing miss-aimed punches that never met their target.

Everyone knew it was over.

The Security Guards each grabbed one of her arms, and quickly pushed her up against a nearby wall. They held her down firmly, as her legs flailed violently in all directions. She screamed swear words at them that were so exotic I wasn't sure if she was even speaking English.

Her pale skin was splattered with the dark red blood of her victims. Her eyes were filled with anger and an animal like ferocity. She looked like she'd just stepped out of a horror movie, the kind where everyone is chopped into little bits and buried in the woods at the end.

I glanced down to the floor to see what was left of Bertha. She wasn't moving. She was barely distinguishable as human.

If it weren't for the low moans of pain she was emitting, I would have thought she was dead.

The sight made me sick to my stomach. I looked away, but it was too late. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the gruesome image behind my eyelids.

Another memory that could never be erased.

There are only four things in this world that are permanent, things that never go away. The first is sharpie. The second is hatred. The third is a memory so dreadful, and sickening its burned forever into your mind.

I looked back at Sam, still shouting and struggling with the Security Guards.

I sighed.

The fourth thing that was absolutely, irrevocably, permanent… was love.

It didn't matter how crazy she was, or how bad for her I was. It didn't matter how much time passed, or how great the distance. Nothing mattered once the bond was there. For better or worse, it would never fade away.


	29. Not Just A Booster Shot

**Hey everyone. So, let's just not waste any time and get right down to it. **

**Replies:**

**Invader Johnny- My thoughts exactly.**

**Yob3- It was supposed to be… I like to add a little humor to serious things.**

**Geekquality- I hadn't either until I wrote it. Originally it was just 2 things (hatred and love) but expanded to four as I typed it out.**

**Baronvonmilo- We'll see… maybe she won't… at least not without some help from our favorite tech producer.**

**WateryCordial- Thanks!**

**XxThePennyTreasurexX- You're request has been granted! Well not exactly soon, but it's here.**

**-fangs and ri-riona- It seems like everyone loves the sharpie bit…**

**Foxtail-Padfoot- I agree.**

**Kpfan72491- Thanks!**

**EmptyWaterbottles- This review literally made my day, I actually called someone up and told them to look at it because I was so proud of the feedback. Thanks!**

**Paula2409- Here you go.**

**Love, ICU**

**Carly:**

Freddie looked once at the woman on the floor, with a disturbed almost frightened look on his face. The look of horror quickly turned into one of contemplation, before his gaze drifted to Sam again just like it always did. His eyes never left her for very long.

His focus stayed there, as did everyone else's in the room.

Sam looked like a maniac. Her hair was disheveled and flying everywhere, her blue eyes tinted red, her arms and legs flailing wildly in all directions. She was screaming at the top of her lungs, as the two security guards held her firmly against the wall.

"Should we call in a Code Green-12?" The one on her left struggled to be heard over her wailing, barely succeeding.

"It's only for emergencies!" The other shouted back.

"Well, what do you call this? This girl's out of her mind!"

"I don't know!"

"She just beat someone till they were almost dead! This constitutes an emergency!"

"Fine!"

One of them threw his head over his shoulder and called to the lady behind the front desk.

"Sheila, Code Green 12!"

The woman at the desk looks stunned for a moment before she sprang into action. She yelled frantically into her walkie-talkie.

"Code Green 12! Hurry!"

Within a minute, six doctors arrived panting for breath. Five of them rushed to help the security guards keep her at bay, not really being much help. They all seemed afraid to touch her, and their grasps were weak and hesitant. They were obviously more used to mind work than physical work.

The one doctor that was left held a small clear vile with petite black numbers running up and down the sides connected to a long silver needle , visible even at a distance.

My first thought: _Damn, this cannot end well._

Something told me that she was about to be injected with a little more than your average booster shot.

The doctor dashed forward, before jamming the needle rather roughly into her neck pushing down the syringe. Sam screamed violently as it made contact, thrashing even harder against the restraining hands that bound her.

Freddie's eyes went wide and his mouth hung slightly ajar. He took a few steps forward as though to play hero, but the secretary grabbed the sleeve of his shirt and jerked him back. She kept her hand on him as he struggled to go to Sam. He looked as though he was in physical pain when he wasn't allowed to be by her side while she was in pain. As the seconds ticked by he grew more and more desperate to be with her, and the secretary had to practically jump him to keep him away.

Slowly Sam's angry yowls turned to pained moaning before turning to silence. Her struggles gradually ceased, as her head slumped down and her body went limp.


	30. Trust

**Hey everyone. Due to lack of characters to do song profiles on anymore, I'm just going to put the main 3 or 4 songs I personally listened to as I wrote it. So enjoy the chapter.**

**Baronvonmilo- Yep.**

**Aaron- I'd kick you back, dummy.**

**Yob3- Damn, you sound serious. Chill, she'll be okay. Maybe.**

**XxThePennyTreasurexX- I love how you added the "whenever you can". It was very polite, and understanding of the fact that I don't sit behind my computer writing Custody all the time, and actually have a life outside of fanfiction.**

**DreamWeaver1001-Thanks! I can't even describe how much I love your review. I love getting long reviews especially, because they make me feel awesome inside that someone took all that time out of their day to tell me what they think.**

**Invader Johnny- I would say so…**

**Kpfan72491- Thanks!**

**Geekquality- Thanks! I'm glad you liked it.**

**BetterThanGold- Your wish has been granted.**

**Mileycfan4eva- Most of my reviewers don't like Carly much. I actually kind of enjoy her, though I love Seddie. I think she's a character that has a lot of unused potential. It's nice to see someone who likes her.**

**Playlist (mine):**

**Little lion man-Mumford and Sons**

**She Takes Me High- We The Kings**

**I Hate Everything About You- Three Days Grace **

Freddie:

Everyone always said she'd get into some deep shit someday. It looked like they were right.

"Sam!" I screamed from across the room at her lifeless form, as the men gently lowered her body to the ground, with the needle still sticking out of her neck.

I dashed to her side. This time no one stopped me.

Her eyes were closed, and I couldn't see her chest rise and fall with the steady flow of oxygen anymore. She looked dead.

_Dead, dead, dead!_

The words echoed in my mind, louder than anything in the physical world.

Shoving one of the security guards out of my way, I collapsed to my knees beside her. I wanted to cry, but the tears never came.

"Sam…?" I asked her, desperate for a reply, as I nudged her softly with my hand. When she didn't show any signs of life, I quickly shifted her head from the cold hard floor to my lap. I was stunned, and felt too empty inside to feel much of anything but shock.

I stroked her hair softly and whispered her name over and over. Or maybe I yelled it. I don't know. It doesn't matter anyway.

"Relax. We just gave her a fast-acting sedative." I didn't look up to see who said it, but I think it was a doctor.

A hand reached down and pulled out the syringe. Her blood pooled in a little circle at the injection site. I was so lost in Sam's death that I had barely registered the fact that she was still alive.

"What now?"

"Lock her up in room 2370B I guess. It's the only one that's vacant. The police will be here soon."

Just more words I failed to comprehend.

"What about the boy?"

"I don't know. Leave him."

I wasn't listening at all. I felt like my heart had been shattered into a million, tiny, little pieces. My stomach was churning, my mind was buzzing but dead, and I couldn't feel my fingertips. The world was numb and cold.

A hand reached out and grabbed my shoulder. I still didn't look up.

"We need you to move, kid."

My ears pricked, and abruptly all my senses became sharp and clear. My body tensed up.

"No." I mumbled through barely parted lips.

"Huh?"

"No way in hell I'm moving." I clarified, making my words slow and blunt as though I were speaking to a child.

"Excuse me?"

I suddenly exploded. Not with anger, but determination to stay with Sam. I'd always stayed with her, through thick and thin, and I'd be damned if I let him drag her unconscious body away from me, to face this challenge alone. Years ago when we'd first started iCarly and I just thought she was kind of cute, maybe I wouldn't have cared. But not after everything we'd been through.

I hadn't saved her stupid ass so many times, only to have it end like this. I'd kept her alive through a suicide attempt, two assaults, failing grades, suspensions, expulsions, arrests, and god knows what else. I sure as hell wasn't going to let her go down, without me by her side. For better or worse, we were going to be together till the bitter end. It just didn't work any other way.

"I'm not moving, you're not taking her away, and I'll be damned if you lay a hand on her or me!" I shouted.

"This is your last warning, kid. Move."

"Make me, you steroid- using-tiny-brained-moronic-block-head!"

Note to self: It's not a good idea to antagonize a security guard who's buff enough that he could be the Incredible Hulk.

"Well, you had your warning."

He took a step forward. I felt an odd mixture of pure, unadulterated, fear and a stone cold determination to never move despite whatever happened to me.

I shut my eyes tight at the last second.

"FREDDIE!" Someone shouted frantically.

I opened my eyes and looked over my shoulder and the security guard did the same, just as distracted by the voice as I was.

A girl with long brown hair was running towards us. As she grew closer her features grew more and more familiar.

"C-Carly?" I stammered.

She jumped in between me and the security guard.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Freddie Benson? Are you trying to get your stupid ass killed?" She shouted, waving her hands around wildly in the air.

My eyes went wide. Carly, was swearing. Really swearing. Out-loud.

When I didn't respond she turned to the security guard, curtsying so subtly polit that it was almost unnoticeable.

"I'm very sorry about him, sir. He's not exactly right in the head, if you know what I mean."

"What the h-?"

I was cut off by a swift kick in the shin that the security guard failed to observe. Idiot.

"Oh I see. It's alright. Just put that thing on a leash will you?"

Carly giggled. "Of course, sir. We'll be on our way now."

She turned back to me with a look in her eyes that clearly said: _Don't ask any questions. I have a plan._

Carly looked sweet and innocent on the outside, but I knew her well enough to know just how devious she could be when she put her mind to it. She usually helped me formulate my evil plots when I wanted to play a prank. Usually they went from mediocre, to freaking diabolical with her assistance. Though she normally spent about half the time helping, and the other half asking my weird questions about Sam.

"_So what do you think of Sam?"_

"_Doesn't Sam's new haircut look great on her?"_

"_I love the way Sam is brave, and really smart. Don't you?"_

I answered everything with either an "I don't know" or "I guess".

When she wasn't talking about Sam though she came up with some pretty damn complex ideas.

I trusted her plans. They almost always worked.

When she reached down and grabbed my arm, and began to lead me away I didn't fight her. She was probably the only person I would let pry my away from her, without having to kill me first.

Maybe she was the only person I really trusted in the whole world, aside from my mom and Sam.


	31. Laughter

**Hey,**

**It doesn't really matter, but just so you guys know I've done some editing. So far only 1-3 have been revised, but I plan on editing most of the earlier chapters. I realized I'd probably increase my fan-base if the 1****st**** few chapters were better written, after all that is what determines for most people whether or not it's worth reading. If the first few chapters suck, no one's going to read on. **

**None of my editing has changed the story at all. I mostly just rewrote a few sentences here and there to make them clearer, or sound better. The meaning is still pretty much the same. The conversation between Spencer and the Lawyer in the 1****st**** chapter has slightly different wording but is basically the same thing, though with much better quality. I hate it when authors edit the stories I like, because sometimes they edit out my favorite part. I assure you literally NOTHING has changed besides wording, and some minor tweaking. Nothing major, just upping the quality. **

**Looking back at it, I can really see my youth in the writing style. I could easily tell I lacked the experience and finesse that I now possess (no arrogance intended, I'm just saying I've improved and gained experience). My style is much more definite now, in contrast with my younger self who was obviously still trying to figure out how she wanted to put things and what kind of writer she was. **

**One of the key things I noticed was I had a tendency to switch from past to present tense, whereas now I work almost entirely in past-tense. Anyway, now that I've gotten myself (at least as a writer) sorted out, and have allowed my skill (if you could call it that) to mature and develop, I've made the decision to revise my younger works in order to show my current abilities. There is no need to go back and reread, seeing as it is the same exact thing as before just in a less sloppy, easier to fallow, format. If you want to go back and reread just for the hell of it, go ahead. I would appreciate some feedback on my editing, if anyone does decide to reread but it's by no means necessary.**

**Seeing as I've already typed up this huge A/N I might as well bring another thing to light considering I already have your attention. I currently have (as of May 13th, 2011) 298 reviews, 104 favorites, and 100 alerts, for this story. I know that's a lot and I don't want to be greedy, but I think it's worth talking about. I don't like bitching about this but it's one of my pet peeves. With well over a hundred people viewing every chapter (329 viewed the last one), it's kind of ridiculous for only ten of them to review.**

**I love the people who do, and this doesn't apply to any of my reviewers. I know some stories don't even have one review so it feels kind of selfish of me to complain, but with so many people viewing it seems like I should be getting more reviews per chapter than I am. So, please, to all the lazy people out there who can't take two minutes out of their busy life to tell me what they think, please, review. It means a lot to me, and every review counts. I work hard on this story, and I would really appreciate it if the people that read it would give me some feedback. Love it, hate it, whatever. I just would really, really, like it if more people would let me know their thoughts. So, please, take the time at the end of this chapter to write a review. They always make me smile, and make me want to write more. It's not like I'm asking you for money, or for your kidney, or something. I'm just asking you to take the time to point, click, and write down a few words. It's not that hard. **

**Please?**

**Love, ICU**

**Ps. I'm sorry but because this is another long A/N I won't be doing replies. I promise to reply to any messages I got for the last chapter, and this chapter, in the one after this.**

**Freddie:**

"What's going on?" I asked trying to keep my voice low and calm.

"I could ask you the same question." She responded, her voice firm and blunt. She held my hand lightly, as she led the way across the room. Spencer was standing by the door looking stunned and confused. We approached him slowly, and the closer we got the more he stared at me with wide eyes.

I glanced back at Bertha. A few of the hospital staff we picking up what was left of her and carrying her away. She moaned in a pained voice, and left a trail of blood smeared on the tile floor. I hurriedly looked away. I didn't want to see any more of her than I had to.

"What happened to her?" I obviously wasn't the only one who had made the mistake of looking back. Carly sounded just as revolted as I felt.

"Sam happened." I answered.

"Why would Sam-?"

"It's a long story." I decided to just leave it at that. We kept walking with her pulling by the hand towards Spencer, our silence heavy with tension.

"Oh my god Freddie what happened?" Spencer yelled as we grew closer. Everyone in the waiting room was staring at me, listening to every word.

"I think it would be better if we talked outside, Spence." I said in a hurried whisper.

Without waiting for a response I dropped Carly's hand and threw open the door. I walked out wordlessly, making my way to the side-walk curb where I plopped down and waited for my friends to fallow. I wasn't waiting long.

Carly came over and sat right by me, so close our legs pressed up against each other. Spencer stayed standing a few feet away, looking me up and down, searching for clues in my appearance.

Carly put her hand on my shoulder gently, and kept it there.

"Tell us everything. From the start." She said, somewhere in between a request and an order.

I laughed, one of those hysterical laughs that people make when all they want to do is cry but have no more tears left.

"And where exactly would the start be, Carly? My childhood? My Mom leaving Chicago with nothing but me and cloths on her back? The first time I saw my dad beat the shit out of my mom? When Gabriel and Ellie left? The day I met Sam? The day I realized I was in fucking love with her?" I chuckled all the way through it, like it was the funniest joke in the world.

Carly's face was just a few inches away from mine. It was the image of shock.

"What are you talking about, Freddie?" She spoke, barely above a breath.

"Everything. I'm tired of acting like none of it happened. I'm tired of fucking hiding." Every word was accompanied by a smile and a laugh. I hadn't felt this free since the day I was born.

"Freddie, the stress is getting to you. You're delusional." She spoke very slowly like I was a little kid.

"No, I'm not. My dad beat my mom, and was drunk all the time. He was evil." I stated matter-of-factly.

"You don't know what you're saying."

"Oh, I do. Believe me I do."

I knew I was acting like a crazy person, but I really didn't care.

"My dad's name was Ian. My very first memories are of him breaking beer bottles on the sides of my crib, and hurting my mom. I grew up in a small apartment with that psychotic bastard, my mom, and Gabriel and Ellie."

"Who are Gabriel and Ellie?" Carly sputtered.

"My brother and sister."

"You're an only child, Freddie." She said.

"That's the story we told everyone else once we moved to Seattle. We lied."

"Where are they then?" Carly hissed.

"I don't know. Maybe, New York. Ellie always wanted to go there."

Carly's face was stunned. I didn't look up to see, but Spencer's probably wasn't that much different.

"Freddie?" She asked, sounding almost afraid.

"Yes?"

"Explanations. Now."


	32. Coming Clean

**Hey,**

**This is the highly anticipated chapter, where Freddie comes clean. No more secrets. Or at least this pretty much kills most of them, though there is still one or two big mysteries left unseen. I promise they're coming soon.**

**I'm sorry… but because I have over 20 replies that I'd have to make (I said I'd do them all from last 2 chaps) and I really want to get this posted as soon as I can because I'm bursting with excitement… nothing today… I think I might just start replying to a few of the reviews instead of all, because if I do all it takes a while (a special thanks to baronvonmilo though because I used the 'kid on the back of the milk carton' thing in this chapter. I never would have thought of that analogy, but I love it. Sorry for using it without asking, but still awesome).**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed though! I love you all, my darlings.**

**Playlist (mine): **

**Cosmic Love-Florence and The Machine**

**Brick by Boring Brick- Paramore**

**Halo- Beyonce (not my normal thing but I love it.)**

**Carly:**

I was suddenly too caught up in what Freddie was saying to remember that I thought he was delusional. I looked into his eyes and I saw emotion everywhere in them, for the first time since I'd met him. He was one of those people that never got angry, sad, or went crazy… until today. Today it had all come pouring out in waves, and I couldn't say I blamed him.

Something in his face told me that no matter what I wanted to believe, he was telling the truth. Every word he was saying was something he'd had bottled up in his heart for a long time, and now that it was finally exploding everywhere he just needed a shoulder to cry on. He probably didn't notice it but there were tears streaming down his cheeks, leaving them red and blotchy. Somehow though he was still smiling that bizarre, insane, smile that made my heart break on the spot.

"Explanations. Now." I whispered.

"It's not a pretty story." His expression abruptly darkened as though he had just came to the realization that this was no laughing matter.

"Nothing ever is." I hugged him gently with one arm draped around his shoulders. I looked into his endless, deathlessly brown eyes and felt like I was meeting Freddie Benson for the first time. Really, seeing him for who he was. He wasn't the dork next door anymore in my eyes… No, now he was the kid on the back of the milk carton with a troubled past and a sad expression that I had just thrown into the trash carelessly so many times. Maybe it wasn't so much that he had never wanted to tell me before, much as I hadn't wanted to hear what he had to say. I was through ignoring him if that was the case.

I knew that I'd never toss another milk carton into the trash ever again.

"You and Spencer both have to promise me something then." He said.

"Anything." Both Spencer and I replied in unison. Spencer especially sounded unusually serious and attentive. I could tell he was hanging on to Freddie's every word, just as I was.

"Neither of you can ever tell anyone else about this. I mean _ever_… and you can't interrupt the story until I'm done. I don't think I can do this if you two but in with questions every ten seconds, because it's hard enough doing it as it is. Can you do that for me?"

"Of course." Spencer and I answered again at the same time.

"Alright… well I guess it all started when my mom was our age… It was nineteen-eighty-two, and she'd met the guy of her dreams. Don't ask me why because I don't know, but she thought he was smart, nice, and everything she'd ever wanted. She thought of him as a kind of god I guess. That was early on in their relationship before she started seeing the bad, though her mentality never really changed even after she saw who he really was. He was an alcoholic with a bad temper. She was an innocent happy go lucky girl. Put the two together and it was a disaster waiting to happen, and before too long it did happen. He started hurting her near constantly. He beat her all the time, and didn't care who knew about it. Mom tried to cover up for him all the time because she was still under the delusion that she was in love with the bastard despite everything. He even hit her in front of her friends but she still acted like it wasn't happening. She had sex with him. She thought she loved him. A year or so later she was seventeen and pregnant. She got kicked out of high-school, and Ian just kept hitting her every day. He even threw her down a flight of stairs three months into it. He never stopped hurting her even when he knew she was carrying his child inside. It was a miracle that he never hurt the baby.

He was evil; I swear to god he was evil. He wouldn't let her go to the hospital to get check-ups just in case the doctors saw her bruises and he got caught. So, they didn't know till the day of birth that she was going to have twins. There was a boy and a girl. She named them Gabriel and Eleanor.

Ian had her move in with him after that. His parents had kicked him out of the house when they had found his stash of beer, so he'd been living in a small apartment for about a month. It only had one bedroom, one bathroom, a living area, and a kitchen. The living room was only about the size of maybe two or three closets and it was the biggest room in the house. It was in a bad neighborhood, definitely not the kind of place you'd want to raise a family in. Mom did what he wanted though, just like she always did.

Gabriel was bold and loud when he needed to be, but most of the time didn't have all the much to say. He was nice, but took everything with a grain of salt. He thought of everything with a serious mind set, and grew up way too fast. He was like an adult in a little kid's body.

Ellie was kind. She was a lot like mom. She liked to ignore all the things in life that put a damper on her mood, and focus on the good things she had to work with. She worked hard at school, and hard at home. She worked hard at everything in life, hoping that if she worked hard enough maybe she could make it to a place better than where she grew up. I know that's how she thought of things because she herself told me that. She comforted everyone and I don't think she ever really hated anyone. Not even Ian. She was pure and sweet as sugar.

Ian beat them both too, but mainly focused on their mother and the woman he claimed to love. His drinking problem just got worse as he got older.

Mom never went back to high school, because Ian told her she had to stay home and take care of his kids and his house. Everything was always 'his'. Never hers or theirs.

Then he got Mom pregnant again. This time with me. My pre-birth story is basically the same as Gabriel and Ellie's. Mom still loved him just as much. It had been nine years since they were born, and nine years that Mom had been suffering. Yet she never realized that she should hate him. All she felt for him was adoration.

I was born into that world.

He beat her every day, and I was too young to go to school so I had to stay home and watch. Ellie and Gabriel were in middle school, and got home around three so I had to take care of Mom when they were gone. Normally Ian would just come home drunk, beat her, and either pass out or leave. I tended to Mom's wounds while she was too busy crying to worry about herself and no one else was there to help.

Ellie would normally take over once she got home. Gabriel just stewed in hatred, and came up with plans for revenge.

Ellie played the role of mother in my life a lot because Mom was usually incapacitated. Mom and Ian slept in the one bedroom, while my siblings and I slept in the living room. We all slept in one bed. It wasn't really a bed so much as it was a big pile of blanket and a few pillows gathered at the side of the room but we made it work.

Ian hurt me too, but I didn't really care about that. Gabriel was the only one that ever really cared about what happened, or how to deal with it. The rest of us were just trying to make it through. He was the one that came up with the original plan to leave Chicago.

He and Ellie were about to turn sixteen by then. I was seven years old.

Gabriel told Ellie first, I think. He always told Ellie everything. They were so close it was almost scary. Sometimes I swore they could read each other's minds.

Ian was out getting hammered that night. We were eating frozen dinners by the T.V.

"Mom?" He asked.

"Yes, dear?" She replied with a smile. She never stopped smiling, despite all the hell she went through on a daily basis.

"I have a plan. We can get out of here. We can leave and Ian will never find us. I've been thinking about it for a long time and I've devised the perfect get-away." He spoke each word in a whisper like it was the biggest secret in the world.

The air was tense and awkward. Even Ellie eyes were hard and intense as we all stared at Mom.

I'd had a hunch this was coming. Gabriel had been abnormally quiet lately even for him, and both he and Ellie had been gone a lot. I knew something was up, but I never thought that was it.

I kept silent though. I didn't talk much as a kid.

Mom's expression was shocked.

"What are you talking about?"

"Escaping. If we don't soon, he'll end up killing you."

"I never want to hear anything like this from you, ever again! I love your father, and he loves me. He loves all of us, and leaving him is the most ridiculous idea I've ever heard. He pays for this apartment, our food, your school books. He's a good man. Why would I ever want to leave him?"

"He hurts you. That's not love, that's something called 'domestic violence' and it's something no good man would ever do. He's going to burn in hell, and we'll all go down with him if we don't get away from here soon." Gabriel's voice was rising.

Mom's expression was stunned and appalled.

"You're grounded young man! Don't ever talk that way about your father again!" She shouted

"Why can't you see sense, Mom? This isn't how it's supposed to be!" He shouted back.

Ellie hugged me close then. She sang softly in my ear while my brother and mother argued the night away.

It was one in the morning before they finally settled down. It was the only time that I've ever seen Mom yell.

"Fine! You can deal with this life. You love him. Pathetic but apparently true. But what about Freddie? He can't grow up here. It's not fair to him if you let him be raised with that man as his father!"

That was the only time in all my life that I ever saw my mother look like she wanted to hit any of her children. She almost did. She was mid-sap before she paused her hand in mid-air and looked at it with a horrified expression on her face. I could tell what she was thinking. She was thinking that she was supposed to be the good parent. The one that took care of us, not the one that hurt us. Our dad already did enough of that.

Gabriel didn't even blink. I think his only real pleasure in his life amidst all the destruction and pain was to never flinch in the face of danger. It was the one thing he really had power over when Ian had control over everything else in the house. He could never be afraid, or be weak. He could be strong, and in that single fact is where he kept all his pride.

His face was stoic and cold, like he'd given up on feeling a long time ago.

Ellie looked like she was about to burst into tears though. She had her face turned away and had her arms wrapped around me clinging with all she had like I was the only thing keeping her grounded. Even though the blow wasn't coming at her, she felt all the betrayal and fear our brother seemed immune too. She was always weird like that. She captured all the unspoken emotions in the room and embodied them as they changed.

Mom ran out of the room and into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. She really didn't want to hear anything about Ian. Ian was still god to her.

No one spoke except Ellie who whispered a lullaby into my ear, as she stroked my hair and held me softly. The silence was full of tension and quickly broken.

"We tried, Ellie. We have no choice."

"There's always a choice, Gabriel!" Ellie cried. There were real tears in her eyes.

"Not now, there isn't. We tried to talk her into it, but she doesn't want to hear anything about it. We tried to get her to go with us, but she'd rather just pretend we're all fine and dandy and burry her head in the sand so she doesn't have to see the truth. If we stay here we'll die. We can't save her, but we can save ourselves." He kept his voice calm, like he was talking about someone else's dysfunctional family and he had nothing to do with it. He had a talent for detaching himself from things and just working with the facts.

"What's going on, Ellie?" I asked in the tentative voice of a young child. I was starting to become deeply frightened.

"Nothing, Sweetie. Just… uh… go to bed." She laid me down on the pile of sheets in the corner resting my head on my favorite pillow. I liked it because it was shaped like a panda bear. I'd gotten it for my third birthday and I'd loved it ever since.

I was a little kid back then. I didn't fully understand the situation. Sometimes I wish I had, but sometimes I think I was better off not knowing.

I fell asleep like Ellie told me to. I woke up the next morning to the sound of Mom screaming and Ian yelling profanity at the top of his lungs. It was normal. In my life… that was how I woke up nearly every morning. It was like some kind of sick, twisted, alarm clock. This time things were different though.

I felt around on the pile of sheets but no one else was there to comfort me. I was greeted with empty air. My eyes opened and I searched the room for Ellie and Gabriel, but they were nowhere to be found.

I realized later that Ellie and Gabriel had never even gone to sleep in the first place. They were long gone by the time I woke up.

I got up and stumbled into the room where I could hear the violence. I thought I'd rather know what was happening then wait to find out alone. I really, really, regret doing that. My mom was screaming at the top of her lungs, but her body was limp at the feet of my father. He didn't care. He just kept on kicking. He was shouting something about Ellie and Gabriel.

"Where are my kids? I know you know where they are, bitch!" He shouted.

He must have stumbled in drunk off his ass after I went to bed. It certainly wouldn't have been the first time.

Mom was beginning to cough up blood. He looked up and saw me standing in the door-way watching.

He instantly turned away from her, focusing his attention on me. He hit me once across the face. Then twice. Then he went nuts, and started beating me just like my Mom.

"Where are your brother and sister, Freddie? Where? They left the family! They must be punished for their disloyalty!"

"I-I-I don't know!" I yelled back, my mouth filled with tears and blood.

"Leave the boy alone! He's just a child!" Mom screamed.

"Fine! Back to you then, bitch!" He went right back to torturing her like I wasn't even there.

I ran out. I came crashing onto the pile of sheets, burying my head in my Panda-Bear pillow. I tried to plug my ears, so I wouldn't have to hear my Mother yowl in pain. It didn't work, but it didn't stop me from trying.

I had my hands under the pillow, squeezing it tight to my face. That's when I found it.

A note.

I yanked it out and saw a piece of plain printer paper, torn and crumpled into a small message. It was decorated with slightly smeared black ink. On it was written:

_Freddie,_

_Memorize every word of this then destroy it. We couldn't take you with us. We love you. I'm really sorry. We would tell you why but we don't have much time before Ian gets home. If there's ever an emergency and you need us, call 312-517-7015. Only call for an absolute emergency._

_Love,_

_Ellie._

So basically when Mom wouldn't leave, they left anyway. Alone. Ian thought Mom knew where they were, and tried to beat it out of her. He probably would have come up with an excuse to beat her anyway, with or without Gabriel and Ellie. He always found something to hit her for."

Freddie was crying hysterically by that point. I couldn't help it. I through my arms around him in a big hug and held him like he was a little baby. He didn't protest at all. In fact he seemed to welcome it.

I looked to Spencer. The look on his face was shocked, amazed, and a little frightened. I couldn't say I blamed him.

"And then-and then-" He sputtered, trying to continue but the emotional strain proving to be too much.

"You don't have to tell me anymore! Just calm down. You can tell me the rest some other time."

He just nodded wordlessly.

I didn't quite know how to respond so I just hugged him tighter.


	33. Sleeping Beauty

**Freddie:**

When all a was said and done I took a deep breath, and was swallowed whole by an ocean of relief. It felt so unbelievably good to quit hiding, quit running from the past. It wasn't until that exact moment did I realize that I had spent so many wasted years pretending to be something I'm not. Pretending that I don't have a past, at all. Pretending I've never been hit with a glass beer bottle, or cried at three AM. It felt amazing just to let it all out, just to let someone, anyone, know of the secret pain I'd been keeping bottled up for so, so long. It made me want to cry tears of joy. I felt so free. I felt happy. Despite all the sad, atrocious memories that swirled around me, and the difficulty they gave me, I felt so elated that it didn't even really matter. Nothing mattered in that moment, except the all engulfing liberty that coursed through my veins.

I gave Carly, a pained smile. A smile that was just as free as my soul, unveiling inner pain in the contors of a seemingly happy expression. The smile embodied me, and the freedom of my new found self-expression.

"Freddie... I really don't know what to say right now." Carly whispered.

"Then don't say anything." I whispered back. Silence is golden. Silence is like a blank canvas, a beautiful thing simply because it goes untouched. It can become anything, and that is where it finds its merit, in its seemingly endless possibilities. Silence was magnificent, if only because of all the words that go unspoken.

"I hate to remind everyone of this now, but we still have a pretty big problem on our hands. We still have to rescue Sam, remember?" Spencer said.

"You're right. The police will be here soon and if she's in an actual jail there's no way we'll be able to get to her. We need to act fast. But we have another issue to deal with once we bust her out." I replied, suddenly very somber.

"What would that be?"

"The cops are after her for very serious assault charges, maybe even attempted murder. We're going to have to hide her and hide her well..."

"Any ideas, Freddie?"

"Yes. I'm going to call the number my brother and sister left, and go on the run with Sam. Eventually we'll find Ellie and Gabe and live with them permanently. Knowing them, they must be pretty well hidden as well for Ian to never have found them."

"Freddie! You can't leave Seattle! It's dangerous out there!" Carly chastised.

"It's dangerous _here_. Very dangerous at the moment."

"There has to be another option!"

"Carly, we don't have time to argue about this!"

"...You're right. We can work this out later, right now we just need to save Sam."

"They said they were keeping her in 2370B. I think I saw that room close to the enterance. WE might be able to bust in through the window, haul her out, and carry her to one of the abandoned buildings near here. We can hold out there until she's stable, then we get the hell out of here."

"Sounds like a plan... but we're not done discussing the second half of your little plan, Freddie."

"Just roll with it until Sam's safe. We can discuss it later! We just have to save her _now._ She's more important than any momentary quarrel we might have with each other."

Carly nodded. We agreed on that much, that was for certain.

"Fine. Rescue mission starts now! Spencer no one got a good look in there at you. Go in there and fake a horrible, contagious illness or something. Carly, come with me, I have an idea where the window is." Freddie stood up.

"Wait! How will I know when you guys are done and I can get out of here?"

"Trust me, Spencer. You'll know." I smiled at him. Mom had always taught me not to make a ruckus, not to make a scene, not to turn myself into a spectacle. She would probably be pretty upset with me if she knew what was about to happen.

I grabbed Carly's wrist, dashing down a nearby ally way on the side of the Hospital that I'd seen the room. I didn't have to look back to know that Spencer was headed back to the main entrance.

I peaked discreetly into every window. After exactly twelve windows, I saw the blonde haired angel I'd been seeking. This window was unlike the others... for starters it was open, but had bars on it.

_Shit... how the hell do I break bars?_

Carly reached into her purse, pulling out a nail file and handing it wordlessly to me.

"What the hell am I supposed to with this?" I quirked a frustrated eyebrow at her.

Carly smirked smugly. She snatched the file back, and began to use it to file away at the iron bars.

I was amazed.

"How do you know this stuff? It's like your an ex-con or something."

She laughed, "I'm no ex-con. I've just seen a lot of old movies about people breaking out of prison. To be honest I'm surprised this works at all."

"Well, we're damn lucky it does."

Just as the last iron bar fell away, two men stepped into the room. One in black, looking like the security guard to end all security guards, and the other was just a simple doctor, thin and angular looking.

I ducked quickly beneath the window, and pulled Carly down with me. I wasn't about to be seen. Not when I was so close to rescuing her.

"Damn, this one was feisty."

"You weren't even there, Mikey. You had your boys take care of her."

"Still... at least one of 'em will be out of commission for a few days. She did quite a number on them. She's quite strong, and now that I get a good look at her she's quite beautiful as well."

"I guess."

"I haven't had much female companionship lately, Doc... you know we don't get to many knocked-out teenage girls around here... maybe it wouldn't hurt to just... sneak a peek? Have a little taste? "

"That unethical."

"Relax, Doc. She's a criminal, not a patient."

"Still... it's very wrong to even consider doing that to a sleeping young lady."

"She's not asleep, she's knocked out on sedatives because she beat the living shit out of an older woman to point where she almost died, then she fought off several security guards, and well... that just doesn't seem like someone I would call 'young lady'. I don't know about you, but I'm definitely going to test this water a little bit... I haven't gotten anything in so long... Just the sight of her makes me want to hump something."

"Mikey..."

I peeked my head up, peering into the window, hoping not to attract attention. I felt fury pulse through me as 'Mikey' began to grope Sam, unzipping his pants and jerking himself around as he touched her. Violated her.

"Mikey! You can't do that!"

"You want to try and stop me, Doc? Little man? Go ahead. Be a hero."' Mikey laughed.

Something about Mikey reminded me of Ian. The way he laughed at his own cruelty. The way he didn't care who got hurt, as long as he got what he wanted. The way he didn't mind violating a defenseless teenage girl... Ellie popped into his mind. Poor, poor Ellie.

I couldn't stand it any longer.

"Stay here, Carly!" I half ordered, half growled, as I propelled himself through the window.

"Hey! YOU CAN'T BE IN HERE!" Shouted Mikey, his hand still beneath Sam's shirt.

"Get. Your. Filthy. Hands. Off. Her"

Mikey chuckled. The doctor looked panicked.

" Make me, kid."

Without a second thought, I shot himself at Mikey. Punching, kicking, biting, scratching with all the rage I could muster. Mikey wasn't prepared. I knew I didn't have time for this. Wordlessly, I kicked Mikey square in his family jewels. Mikey whimpered and fell to the ground, clutching his crotch. I felt even more admiration for Sam. She'd single handidly taken on several of these dudes, didn't pull any cheap shots like me, and she lived to tell the tale. It was quite impressive.

Freddie looked over to the doctor, "You got any issue with me? I don't care. I can take you on too if you want."

"No. Do what you want. At least the girl is safe."

I noted that the doctor looked like someone who really was humanitarian material. He had a kind face. He treated everyone, even a violent criminal, like a person who deserved safety and respect. I nodded slowly at him in a silent truce.

Without another word, I picked up Sam's unconscious body, clutching her to his chest. I didn't think about it. I just did it simply because I felt so very alive in that moment... and it just felt so right.

I gently held her head up, and brought her lips crashing onto mine. It was like the universe exploded in between our lips as they parted, dancing together, passionately. Even when she was unconscious it was magic. Pure magic. Nothing like the brief kiss they'd shared on the fire escape, years ago. This was a mature kiss. A passionate kiss. The kind a man gave to a woman, not the kind of nervous kiss a boy gave to a girl. It felt like flying. I saw the world crashing all around her face, as my lips told her unaware self all the things I never could. It was exhilirating, and crazy, and selfish to feel so very amazing, the selfish desires longing to run away with her and keep her beauty and soul all for myself, and just stay locked in this kiss for all eternity. But that just wasn't going to happen. In fact with speed being the crucial thing in this rescue mission, I couldn't even stay that way for a few minutes. It was all over as quickly as it had started. I would always remember the taste of her lips upon mine, like cherry lip-gloss and seven up.

I looked down at her still unconscious face. Suddenly, as if awakened from a spell, her cobalt eyes fluttered open, blinking up at me.

I smirked.

The magnificent princess, awoken from a curse, with true love's first kiss. Maybe there was some truth in fairy tales after all.

"Well, good morning, sleeping beauty." I greeted as I passed her through the window and into Carly's outstretched arms.

And so was the wonderous beginning to a life on the run... but what a beautiful beginning it was.

**So... I stopped writing for a year, and I'm sorry. I love all of you, and thanks for all the continued reviews and support in my absence. I really don't have any excuse for not writing because a lot's happened in the last year but none of it really excuse worthy. So ya. I was going to just discontinue this story, but I felt inspired today because I went back and read all the reviews I've gotten since I quit, begging for an update, and reminding me that all that I've done up to this point would be for naught if I stopped here.**

**So thanks. Thank you so much.**


End file.
